


A Spark to Ignite

by Leclasly (snarfette)



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Fire, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:08:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 43,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28220670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarfette/pseuds/Leclasly
Summary: There had to be some positives to nearly burning your apartment down, right? For Charles, a hot (no pun intended) firefighter coming to his rescue definitely counted as a bonus.
Relationships: Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc
Comments: 141
Kudos: 180





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is me dipping my toe into writing F1 fic. After this season, I can’t get these boys out of my head. This fic was originally written for another fandom but I just kept picturing it with F1 drivers so here we are. 
> 
> Just a shortish chapter to get us going.

Red-rimmed eyes were not exactly his most attractive feature in that moment. Hacking up a lung wasn’t doing much for his general appeal either. Hardly the best impression to be making on the hot - no pun intended - firefighter who was currently walking towards him.

Although, Charles decided, he probably should have been less bothered about that and more concerned about the fact that his kitchen had just been on fire.

The kindly paramedic had wrapped one of those crinkly foil blankets around his shoulders and held an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth as he sat on the stretcher in the ambulance. Fortunately, he hadn’t been burnt, just inhaled a bit of smoke, had the shock of his life, and felt rather stupid.

The fireman had taken off his helmet and shed the bulky coat that protected his upper body, revealing fluffy, dark blond hair and a tight-fitting navy t-shirt that hugged his chest and arms in all the right places.

Charles swallowed thickly as the firefighter approached, pushing the mask back into the hand of the frowning paramedic, almost setting off another coughing fit in the process, before he shuffled to the edge of the little bed and pushed the blanket off his shoulders. He pulled himself up a little straighter as the firefighter looked toward the paramedic and received a nod, presumably confirming that Charles wasn’t about to keel over – at least not from smoke inhalation anyway.

“Sir? Are you the owner of the apartment?” the firefighter asked as he stood at the foot of the steps leading up to the ambulance doors.

“That would be me,” Charles croaked. ‘ _ Sounding like you’ve swallowed gravel – add that to the list of unattractive qualities _ _,_ ’ he thought to himself.

“I wanted to let you know that we’ve successfully extinguished the fire in your kitchen,” the man told him.

“Thank you,” Charles replied with what he hoped was a decent smile. He knew that his friends would mock him relentlessly if they could see him fussing about his appearance, when he really should’ve been more concerned about what had just happened. 

“It looks like the fire started on the hob. Do you remember what happened?”

Charles winced. This was just going to make him appear even worse. This firefighter was probably one of those safety conscience types that couldn’t tolerate idiots who didn’t respect fire. Charles was sure he was more likely to be getting a lecture than a phone number off this guy.

“It’s stupid, really,” he started. “I was frying some chicken and I just went through to get my phone charger from the bedroom. I must’ve left the tea towel too close because by the time I came back…well, it seemed like the whole oven was on fire. It spread so quickly.” He shook his head a little and looked down at the floor of the ambulance.

Despite feeling embarrassed about the situation - and despite his apparent ability to perv on hot men even in dire situations - he was actually pretty shaken. Walking back through to the kitchen to find a blazing fire, with the smoke alarm finally coming to life and screaming out its warning, had caused Charles’ heart to simultaneously drop to his stomach and start pounding at a million beats per minute. 

He’d panicked. Of course he’d panicked: his kitchen was on fire. And for a moment he hadn’t had a clue what to do. Then he’d vaguely remembered something about wet towels and tried to put the fire out himself. It was a miracle he hadn’t been burned. He’d given up on that heroic plan after mere seconds and found himself dialling 999 as the smoke in the kitchen got blacker and thicker, and he ended up stumbling out of his apartment hardly able to see where he was going as his eyes streamed and his throat rebelled against the smoke he’d breathed in.

“Hey,” a voice brought him back to the present. “It’s alright, you know. It happens all the time – it’s not stupid. You got out safely and the fire’s out now – that’s the main thing.”

Charles gave him a tight smile. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Listen, have you got somewhere you can stay for a bit? Your place is going to need some work. The kitchen’s obviously got the worst damage but the rest of it will need some cleaning because of the smoke damage.”

Now probably wasn’t the moment to make a suggestive comment about staying at the sexy fireman’s place, but it was on the tip of Charles’ tongue. He didn’t even know if the guy was interested in men but he could fantasise. There had to be some positives to this whole mess. Fit firefighters coming to his rescue definitely counted as a plus. 

He cleared his throat, hoping some of the scratchiness might be wearing off. “I’ll ring my mates, see if I can stay with them for a while.”

“That’s good,” the man replied. He looked like he was about to say something else, but he was cut off by a shout from behind him.

“Yo, Gasly!”

The fireman turned around as another firefighter clambered up onto the steps leading into the fire truck.

“What?” he shouted back.

“Time to go,” his colleague yelled at him. “Stop flirting!”

The fireman turned back to Charles with a clenched jaw and, Charles was delighted to see, a flush creeping across his cheeks. “Dick,” he muttered under his breath. “I’d better get going,” he said to Charles as he gestured over his shoulder to the waiting fire engine. “Um, see ya.”

With that, he turned and jogged back to the fire truck. He pulled himself up and Charles watched as he punched his co-worker in the arm. The other fireman was clearly laughing hysterically as the truck started up.

As the fire engine slowly moved out of the building’s car park, Charles stood up and moved to the door of the ambulance. He was just in time to see ‘Fireman Gasly’ looking back at him as the truck swung round before it exited the car park and disappeared down the street.

***

Charles hadn’t gone in to work the day after the fire.

As soon as the fire truck had pulled out of the car park, he’d called one of his closest friends, told him the whole disastrous tale and asked to stay in the spare room in his shared house for a few weeks while his own apartment was repaired.

After checking that Charles was in one piece - and not horribly disfigured by the blaze - Lando had yelled something to his two housemates and then told Charles that ‘of course’ he could stay with them. Despite pretending to mock Charles for his idiocy - as all best friends did in times of crisis - they’d been more than willing to oblige, just pleased to know that their friend had survived with no major injuries. Lando had pulled him into a tight embrace when he’d opened the door to find him standing outside with a large kit bag full of clothes in his hand.

Charles would have normally patted him on the back and extracted himself from the hug fairly quickly, but, for once, he had allowed himself to be held. Maybe it was the shock. All he’d known was that he had been able to feel slight tremors running through his whole body and he’d put it down to the adrenaline leaving him in one great rush. So, for a few moments on the doorstep, he’d clung onto his friend gratefully.

After settling in with Lando, George and Alex, he’d rung his boss and explained that he wouldn’t be in, not least because he needed some personal time to organise the workmen that would need to sort out his destroyed kitchen and smoke-damaged apartment.

It was twenty-four hours after the fire that Charles found himself standing on the fire station’s forecourt clutching a large plastic Tupperware. He smoothed down his t-shirt and approached the large rolled up shutters. He’d seen people coming and going as he’d walked towards the station from where he’d parked his car, but hadn’t caught sight of the gorgeous fireman from the day before. 

As he drew closer, he saw the other firefighter who had been winding up the reason for Charles’ visit, ‘Fireman Gasly’. He was leaning over an open toolbox, but he glanced up when he noticed Charles approaching.

“Alright, mate?” he said, as he stood up to greet Charles.

Charles felt a little self-conscious, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him. “Um, hi, I was….well, your crew came out to my apartment yesterday for the kitchen fire and I just wanted to drop by and say thanks for your help. I brought cake.”

The fireman smiled brightly and accepted the box when Charles held it out to him. “Nice one, mate,” he said cheerfully. He peered into the box with a pleased look on his face. “I guess you’re here to see Pierre, then,” he announced with a waggle of his eyebrows and a knowing nod.

Before Charles could respond, and really he didn’t know what to say anyway - except for, ‘ _Am I really that obvious?’_ and ‘ _oh, his name’s Pierre, then_ ,’ - the other man had turned around and bellowed at the top of his lungs, “Gasly! Visitor for you!”

There were a few moments of silence before ‘Pierre’ emerged from the back of the station, reprimanding his friend as he walked over. “Fucking hell, you’re such a loud-mouthed dickhead,” he grumbled, before he noticed Charles standing there and fell silent.

The fireman was even better looking than Charles had remembered. His vision had obviously been impaired by the smoke the previous day because Charles’ memory hadn’t done this man any justice really. His eyes were beautiful, his muscled arms were more defined and his lips looked softer. Charles was  _ so _ glad he’d made the decision to pop down to the fire station.

The ‘loud-mouthed dickhead’ seemed to be enjoying himself as he looked between the two of them with a smug smile on his face, before he wandered past Pierre, thumped him on the shoulder and announced, “He brought cake,” by way of explanation as he disappeared with the box.

“I wanted to say ‘thanks’,” Charles said immediately, not wanting an awkward silence to develop.

“So you made a cake,” Pierre stated, but it half-sounded like a question.

“Yes, well, no,” Charles started. “ I  didn’t make a cake. I asked my friend - one of the guys I’m staying with - to make one seeing as I  _ clearly _ can’t be trusted in a kitchen.”

Pierre smiled a little at that and Charles tried very hard not to grin too much at his reaction. It was a very nice smile. But he didn’t want to look crazy . But , he wondered,  maybe I already do look a bit nuts coming down here like this. Maybe this is actually very inappropriate behaviour. He somehow couldn’t find it within himself to care all that much.

“Well, it was very good of you,” Pierre said. “The boys will demolish it with tea later.”

“No worries,” Charles said as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He had to make a move now before things got awkward. One way or another, he had to know if he was on the right track with the way he  thought Pierre had been looking at him. “I’m sure you get lots of damsels in distress coming down here to say thanks and showering you with gifts.”

Pierre breathed out a soft laugh at the words. “We have a few,” he replied. “But I send them Dan’s way.”

Charles’ smile widened as he heard Pierre’s words.

“The loud-mouthed dickhead?” Charles asked cheekily.

Pierre huffed out a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck as he looked down at his feet for a moment. 

“Yeah, him,” he said as his eyes moved back up to meet Charles’ and he pushed his hands into his pockets. 

Charles became aware that he was gently swaying from side to side, but strangely enough, so was Pierre as he stood there with his hands shoved into his uniform trousers looking at Charles expectantly.  _ Now or never _ _,_ he decided.

“Listen, um, I was wondering if you’d let me take you out for a drink…to say thanks,” he said, and smiled his most charming smile.

Pierre smiled back at him. “I’m sure the lads would love it,” he replied easily.

Charles’ face fell and his mouth flapped a few times as he tried to think of a way to get out of taking a whole fire crew to the pub for a drink.  _ Not _ what he had in mind at all. And his bank balance wouldn’t thank him for it either.

Pierre suddenly laughed. “I’m just messing with you. Sorry.” He laughed again. “If the offer’s still open, I’d really like that.”

Charles felt the relief wash through him – he wasn’t going to be taking the whole crew out, but Pierre had agreed. He shook his head but couldn’t help the smile on his face. “Okay,” he said. “Well, if you give me your number, I’ll be in touch.”

Pierre obliged and Charles typed the number into his phone. He smiled at Pierre once more before he took a step backwards. “So, I’ll give you a call, then.”

“One more thing,” Pierre called to him.

Charles stopped and waited for his next words.

“What’s your name? I can’t exactly call you ‘15th September, kitchen fire’.”

Charles laughed brightly. Something about Pierre seemed to light him up from inside.

“It’s Charles,” he said with a smile. “Charles Leclerc.”

Pierre smiled at him and nodded.

Then they both turned around and headed back where they’d come from. Charles forced himself not to turn around to watch Pierre walking away, but he did wonder if Pierre was doing the same thing. 


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the positive feedback on the first chapter - you’ve motivated me to get the next one updated. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Here be smut...

It took Pierre less than an hour in the pub with Charles to realise two things. 

One: his suspicions about Charles being a complete charmer were entirely accurate. And two: he definitely wanted Charles.

Picking up a bloke after they’d tackled a fire in his apartment wasn’t exactly something Pierre did regularly. In fact, he’d never felt the urge to see any of the victims of fires they’d been called to after the event. At least not in a ‘ _let’s go for a drink and hopefully some amazing sex_ ’ kind of way. But there was something magnetic about Charles.

Pierre might have forgotten all about him if he hadn’t turned up at the fire station looking so much more gorgeous than he had as he sat in the back of an ambulance the previous day. And now, as Pierre sat across from him at a small table in the busy pub, he knew there was no way he’d be walking away from Charles without getting what they both so clearly wanted.

Because Charles wasn’t subtle in his flirtations - _at all_. He had this smile on his face that told Pierre he knew exactly what he was doing. Every so often, his tongue would peek out from between his lips after he’d taken a sip from his pint and he’d run it across his lips deliberately slowly. Pierre couldn’t help but watch its progress and then, when he looked up again, Charles would be watching him with a slightly raised eyebrow and a cocky smirk pulling at his lips, like he knew exactly what was running through Pierre’s mind. Pierre would take a gulp from his own pint just to give him something to focus on so he could hopefully avoid looking too obvious. He was pretty sure it was a lost cause. 

“So, have you ever done one of those calendars?” Charles asked. The same smirk was still on his face.

“Calendars?” Pierre asked in confusion. Their conversation had covered a pretty random selection of topics, nothing too in-depth or personal, and Pierre had to admit that he’d been caught off guard a couple of times by Charles’ changes of subject.

“You know, sexy firemen,” Charles explained. “The kind of thing that people buy as ‘Secret Santa’ gifts or for middle-aged women to perv on.”

Pierre huffed out a laugh. “I don’t think they usually come looking for talent for that kind of thing around these parts, mate.”

“Hmm, I dunno,” Charles said with a slight tilt of his head. “I think they’d find plenty of talent if they came to your station.” He took a quick sip and licked his lips in that infuriating way again as Pierre felt himself get a little flustered. “I mean, your mate, Dan, is it? He’s pretty hot.”

Pierre frowned at Charles’ words before Charles, the absolute arse, burst out laughing. He leant across the table and smirked again. “Although, I think I’d rather have you as my Mr. September hanging on the wall. Obviously, I’d be willing to assess the talent situation and feedback to the calendar company.”

Pierre leaned in a little closer too. “You’re so full of bullshit, you know,” he said just loudly enough to be heard over the noise in the pub.

Charles grinned and his eyebrow rose again. “I’d offer to take you back to mine to make up for it, but, as you know, I’m kind of homeless at the minute.”

Pierre tried his best to hide his interest in the idea of going home with Charles. He wanted to at least  try to play it cool. He tipped his head to the side and his mouth pulled down at the corners. 

“Well, seeing as you’re homeless and everything, I suppose you’d better come back to mine then,” he eventually offered. He was more than a little bit pleased to see the flash of anticipation in Charles’ eyes as he nodded, downed the remainder of his pint and stood up.

***

Fortunately, it was only a short walk back to Pierre’s apartment from the pub. An almost tangible desire had built between them as they walked side by side, continuing the teasing banter from earlier on in the evening.

As Pierre found himself pressed back against the, thankfully closed, door of his apartment with Charles’ lips desperately moving against his own, he wondered for a brief moment how they’d even managed to make it inside instead of giving in to the sexual tension between them and disappearing down an alleyway for a quick blowjob. He was glad they’d made it back to his apartment. He wanted to savour every moment of this encounter.

He was determined not to overthink it. He’d not dated anyone properly in well over a year, getting by on a couple of random hook-ups and avoiding any and all attempts by his well-meaning (which often translated to meddling) friends and colleagues. Part of him had been wondering if he’d ever get laid again after a recent dry-spell, and he’d rolled his eyes at his own dramatic despair: Dan’s voice echoing in his head, “you’re only twenty-four, mate - not ready for a life of celibacy yet.” And, while Charles was probably just going to be another one-off, it was definitely reassuring to know that someone had purposefully wanted to take him out for a drink with one very clear goal in mind. The way Charles couldn’t keep his hands off him was a pretty good way of ending his dry-spell. 

One of Charles’ hands was grasping the back of Pierre’s head, his fingers threading through his hair. The other had slid across his hip, his thumb sneaking underneath Pierre’s thin jumper to smooth across the skin above his waistband.

Pierre had barely heard the door click shut and kicked off his shoes when Charles had surged towards him, first pulling him in with a hand behind his head, then walking him backwards the two paces he’d managed to move so that his back was pressed against the wood of the door. He wasn’t complaining. The kiss was everything he’d imagined it would be – Charles’ lips as soft as they looked, his hands as powerful as he’d thought they’d be as he’d watched him in the pub, and that tongue, the one that had teased him mercilessly as they sat with their pints, that now licked its way into his mouth, was just as arousing as he’d hoped.

He met Charles’ kiss with equal passion. His own hands slipped inside Charles’ jacket and began to push it away from his shoulders, working it down his arms as Charles had to release his grip on Pierre in order to remove it completely. Charles’ hands immediately sought him out again, grasping at his belt to draw their bodies closer.

The frantic nature of their kissing, with teeth and tongues clashing, and hands grasping, was only spurred on by the feel of their bodies pressing even more closely together. Pierre had been half-hard in anticipation since they’d left the pub, but now he was achingly aroused, his cock straining against the stiff denim of his jeans as Charles angled his body against him perfectly.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned as he pulled his lips away from Charles’.

They were both panting heavily; Charles still close enough that each breath ghosted across Pierre’s lips leaving him tingling.

Charles was watching him with hungry, lust-darkened eyes. He seemed to be drinking in every part of Pierre’s face and very much enjoying what he saw. Suddenly, he moved forwards again, one hand cupping Pierre’s face as he leant in and attached his lips to the tender flesh of his throat. Pierre felt his knees weaken at the sensation of Charles’ teeth grazing across the delicate skin before he ran his tongue across the same patch. A moan slipped from Pierre’s lips accompanied by a shudder of pure pleasure. Charles had immediately zoned in on one of his favourite places to be touched and he clearly knew it seeing as Pierre could feel that he was smiling against his neck between the kisses he placed there.

“Bedroom,” Pierre grunted. “Now,” he added, as he pulled on Charles’ hair slightly when the dark-haired man showed no signs of drawing his mouth away from Pierre’s neck.

Pierre managed to slip out from his position pressed against the door and dragged Charles along to his bedroom, where he kicked the door open before spinning around to pull Charles back into another searing kiss. The need to be touching Charles was almost overwhelming. This might be a one-night-stand, but he’d not felt like this for a long time. 

He grabbed the material of Charles’ shirt and then attempted to make quick work of the buttons. His fingers fumbled several times as he got distracted by Charles’ hands yet again wandering underneath his jumper, before they finally peeled it over his head and threw it to the floor. Finally, Pierre managed to deal with the last button and he hurriedly pushed the material away from Charles’ shoulders and down his arms until it dropped to the floor. Pierre took a moment to admire the definition of Charles’ chest and all the smooth skin that had been revealed, before he felt fingers at his belt and he was quickly distracted again.

Charles didn’t seem to have any problem with multi-tasking as he leant in to kiss Pierre again whilst his fingers tackled his belt. He was even managing to walk Pierre backwards towards his bed at the same time.

“I want to blow you,” Charles breathed against his ear.

The shiver that ran through Pierre’s body was accompanied by his dick twitching in his now unzipped jeans, as the words rushed over his sensitive flesh. “God, yes,” he groaned out in reply.

Apparently, Charles didn’t need any further encouragement as he immediately dropped to his knees and began working Pierre’s jeans down his thighs. As soon as the item of clothing was successfully removed, Charles returned his lips to Pierre; this time to the soft skin of his stomach. Teasingly, he licked and nipped his way across the flesh just above the waistband of Pierre’s boxers before he drew back and mouthed at Pierre’s erection through the thin material of his underwear.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Pierre moaned out. He grabbed Charles’ shoulders to steady himself as he felt his knees shake a little.

“You like that, hmm?” Charles paused to ask cheekily. 

With a confident smirk up at him, Charles’ fingers dipped inside the elastic of the waistband and dragged Pierre’s boxers down, freeing his achingly hard cock. Pierre watched Charles’ face as he eyed his erection and then he looked up and their eyes met. And then Charles licked his lips, just like he’d been doing earlier on at the pub, in exactly the same way that he’d blatantly been torturing Pierre all night. The cocky git. If Pierre wasn’t so turned on, he’d call Charles out for teasing him, but he really didn’t want anything to distract Charles from the task at hand, or mouth as it were.

Pierre brought his hand up to stroke through the hair at the base of Charles’ skull and suddenly Charles was moving forward, taking him into his mouth. For a moment, Pierre felt like he’d forgotten how to breathe. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of Charles on his knees, his lips stretched around him and his cheeks hollowed out. One of Charles’ hands was wrapped around the base of Pierre’s cock while the other caressed his arse cheek.

Moving his fingers from the back of Charles’ head, they stroked across his cheek and down to the defined jawline that was currently working to deliver the most exquisite pleasure. After their exploration, his hands found their way back to Charles’ hair and his fingers twisted slightly in the longer hair on top of his head. It seemed that Charles enjoyed the sensation as he moaned lowly around Pierre’s cock; the vibrations from his noise sending a further jolt of pleasure down Pierre’s spine. He felt like his body was liquefying; well, apart from his cock. There was a tingling sensation building inside him and he knew that he was getting close. The sight of Charles palming at his own erection inside his unzipped jeans just pushed him further towards his release.

“Charles…” he panted. “Charles, I’m gonna come.”

Pierre hadn’t known how Charles would react to his announcement, but he was more than a little pleased when he just seemed to be spurred on by the news. The sensations around Pierre’s cock seemed to intensify as Charles moved his hand to tease at his balls. Pierre tightened his grip in Charles’ hair and leaned his other hand against his shoulder as he felt his orgasm hit him. He cried out, throwing his head back as he tried in vain to keep some control over his hips as they thrust forwards wildly.

Charles sucked him through the whole thing before allowing Pierre to slip free from his lips. As Pierre shuddered from the pleasure, he glanced down to see Charles smirking up at him and that wicked tongue was back, licking across his lips again. And Pierre knew in that moment, that whatever else happened that night, it wasn’t going to be a one-off. He was going to need a repeat performance. He was going to need to see Charles again. 

Pierre decided that Charles looked far too cocky in that moment, on his knees, licking the remnants of his release off his lips. He yanked him up and smashed their lips together. The taste of himself as he licked into Charles’ mouth reminded him that he’d just been given one hell of an orgasm and he was pretty determined to give Charles one in return.

He hauled Charles closer, his hands pushing down the material of Charles’ jeans as he simultaneously pulled him towards him. It was a miracle that they didn’t fall over, what with Pierre tugging at Charles, and Charles’ trousers and underwear tangled around his ankles until he managed to kick them free and follow Pierre eagerly towards his bed.

They tumbled down onto the mattress and Pierre immediately straddled Charles’ hips, leaning down to run his tongue across his chest, nipping at his flesh every so often before kissing each patch gently again. He could feel Charles beginning to writhe beneath him, his body reacting to each stroke of his tongue or graze of his teeth. Focusing on one of Charles’ nipples, he gently nipped at it before swirling his tongue across the sensitive skin. Internally he did a little fist bump when he felt Charles shudder beneath him and his hard cock twitch against his arse, knowing that he’d found one of Charles’ favourite places to be touched.

“Like that, do you?” he questioned, teasing Charles with his own cocky observation from earlier. As he spoke, his breath tickled across the wet skin surrounding Charles’ nipple and the other man shivered as goose bumps rose all over his skin.

“What do you want?” Pierre asked him in a low voice before he attached his lips to Charles’ other nipple. 

Letting out a groan, Charles’ hand twisted in his hair as he wriggled around on the bed. “Christ…Pierre,” he moaned. “I want to fuck you.”

The words sent a jolt of heat through Pierre and he felt his cock begin to react to the idea, even though it hadn’t been that long since he felt like Charles had sucked his brain out through it.

“Yeah,” he breathed against Charles’ chest. “Let’s do that.”

He rolled off Charles and reached into his bedside cabinet, pulling out a bottle of lube and a box of condoms. He dropped the condoms on top of the cabinet but held out the lube to Charles with a smirk on his face.

Charles didn’t seem to be in any hurry despite his desperate declaration of just moments before. He pushed Pierre back against his pillow, pressing him into the mattress with his body, and kissed him deeply again, his tongue licking into his mouth as his hands wandered over his body. At some point, he must have grabbed the lube because he was suddenly between Pierre’s thighs, spreading them apart further as his fingers teased at his balls before dipping lower and circling around his hole. Tearing his lips away from Charles’, Pierre drew in a sharp breath at the feeling of one of Charles’ long fingers covered in cool lube pressing against his opening.

“Alright?” Charles whispered against his ear, as he hovered over him. His fingers had stilled in their actions as he waited for Pierre’s response.

Pierre looked up at him. He knew he was probably going a bit cross-eyed from staring at Charles so close up, but he really enjoyed looking at the other man’s face. And the fact that Charles, for all his confident swagger and charm, seemed so genuinely interested in making sure he was okay, warmed him all the way through. And hell yes, he was alright. He realised suddenly that he should probably share that with Charles before he gave up on waiting and headed for home, or wondered if Pierre had drifted into some sort of trance.

“Yeah, definitely alright,” he confirmed. “Don’t stop.”

Charles kissed him again, and Pierre really didn’t think he’d ever before been kissed like he had that night. There was something incredibly passionate in the way that Charles seemed to claim his mouth. At the same time, Charles pressed his finger against his hole again and eased it past the ring of muscle there. He worked his finger in and out, building a rhythm, before he pressed in with a second, then a third, repeating the action, and Pierre felt heat moving its way up his body. He could feel the way his chest was beginning to flush, but he didn’t care as he began to fuck himself against Charles’ fingers.

“ _Oh_ … fuck ,” he groaned as Charles’ fingers grazed across his prostate. His cock was fully hard again and he was pretty sure that if Charles hadn’t pulled his fingers away at that moment, he’d have been well on his way to his second orgasm of the evening.

Pierre reached for the condoms and handed one over to Charles who quickly ripped it open and carefully rolled it on to his own cock. He squeezed out more lube into his hand and gave himself a few long strokes to cover the condom. His eyes closed for a moment as he touched himself and Pierre suddenly had the urge to watch him get himself off. He could just imagine how hot he’d look, writhing about on the bed as he stroked himself. The thought sent more heat through Pierre, but he filed it away for some point in the future, either as his own fantasy wanking material, or as something to ask of Charles if they decided to see each other again. He got the feeling that Charles wouldn’t mind being the main event in a show for Pierre.

After a few rough strokes, Charles opened his eyes again and leant over Pierre, once more claiming his mouth in a deep kiss. Then he moved away from his lips and kissed his way along Pierre’s jawline and up to his neck where he once again sucked at the spot guaranteed to make Pierre’s toes curl in pleasure.

“Ready?” he whispered against Pierre’s ear, before he nipped at his ear lobe and tugged gently. He was rocking against Pierre’s hips and Pierre wondered if he even realised he was doing it or if he was just so caught up in his need to get off that his body was moving of its own accord. The thought that he was having that effect on Charles only made Pierre more desperate to feel him inside him as soon as possible.

“Fuck, yes,” he replied, his head thrown back to expose his neck even further, his fingers threaded into Charles’ hair as he shuddered.

It was almost a disappointment when Charles backed away and moved down his body once more. Almost. Pierre was well aware of what was going to happen next so he couldn’t be too upset about the loss of Charles’ skilful mouth on his throat driving him wild.

He let his thighs fall open as Charles settled between them once more. Then he wrapped his legs around his waist as Charles grabbed the base of his cock to guide it towards Pierre’s waiting hole. Steadily, Charles pushed forward into the slick opening and Pierre could tell he was forcing himself to take it slow. By the time he’d bottomed out, they were both panting, a light sheen of sweat already coating their skin.

Charles took a few deep steadying breaths before he began to roll his hips, Pierre running his fingers across the muscles of Charles’ back, loving the feel of them shifting beneath his hands as Charles moved. The rhythm was slow and shallow to begin with, but eventually Pierre squeezed his thighs more tightly around Charles’ waist.

“Come on,” he urged. “Fuck me, Charles.”

Pierre was pleased that Charles didn’t need to be told twice. On the next thrust, he pushed deeper, then drew back further and slammed his hips forward again. Pierre’s back arched up from his bed and he moaned long and loud as Charles repeated his actions again and again.

“Is that what you wanted?” Charles panted between thrusts.

“ _ Fucking _ …ah… _ yes _ !” Pierre cried out as Charles’ cock brushed against his prostate.

Pierre’s blunt fingernails dug into the damp skin of Charles’ back as he felt the heat curling inside him.

Suddenly, Charles leant down to kiss him, his tongue thrusting into his mouth desperately. The shift in angle made his cock drive even deeper inside Pierre and his own dick was trapped between the heat of their bodies, the friction of their stomachs driving him closer to the edge.

Charles’ ragged breaths were interrupted by a low groan and then Pierre could feel him shaking as his cock pulsed inside him. He continued to thrust his hips but his movements had lost their rhythm and Charles was no longer kissing him, merely panting against his neck as he shuddered through his orgasm. Pierre was nearly there himself. He just needed a little more. For the briefest of moments, he was concerned that Charles was going to collapse on him and leave him dangling on the precipice of his release, but Charles was still moving, albeit with much less co-ordination, and then he reached between them and took Pierre’s cock firmly in his hand. He pumped his fist up the shaft as he lifted his head from his sweaty neck to look down at him.

“Fucking hell - you look so hot like this,” he commented as his hand continue to move. He pressed his lips to Pierre’s again, but it didn’t last as Pierre tore his mouth away to press his head back against the pillow and moan out in elation as Charles stroked his second orgasm of the night out of him.

When his breathing had returned to normal and he’d managed to open his eyes again, Pierre looked down at his stomach and chest to see the mess he’d made all over himself. Then he glanced up at Charles who was looking exceedingly pleased with himself. 

‘ _ He  should be looking pleased with himself. That was one of the best fucks I’ve ever had _ ,’ Pierre thought to himself. But there was no way he was going to say that out loud – Charles didn’t need his ego massaging any further. Instead, he stretched his arms above his head and smirked to himself at the way Charles’ eyes wandered over his body.

“I’d better get rid of this,” Charles said after he’d finished admiring the view. He’d pulled the condom off and was pushing himself up off the bed. He dropped it into the little bin in the corner of the bedroom and then set about locating his clothes that were scattered all over the floor.

It was a little disappointing to see him pulling his clothes back on, mostly because Pierre really enjoyed the sight of his smooth, lightly-tanned skin, but Pierre had known what he was getting as soon as he’d invited the other man back to his apartment. A one-night-stand with no strings attached was exactly what he’d been looking for and he was pretty certain that Charles had been after the same thing. Although he had to admit, that after what had just happened, he certainly wouldn’t have said no to a second meeting.

Despite the fact that he was knackered, he pushed himself up and padded across the hall into his bathroom to clean up a little. He’d shower later after Charles had gone. He found his boxers and pulled them on as he tried not to make it obvious that he was watching Charles get dressed.

Eventually, Charles seemed to have found everything and put himself back together. Pierre had tugged his jeans back on, but didn’t really see the point in putting his jumper back on when he was going to take it all back off the moment that Charles left.

Charles approached him slowly and, for the first time since he’d met him, Pierre thought he actually looked a little shy. It was strange really, seeing as less than fifteen minutes ago they’d been having rather amazing sex.

“I’d better get going,” he said as he stood in front of Pierre, one hand smoothing down the hair at the back of his head.

Pierre nodded. “Sure. Thanks for a good night.”

“Yeah.” Charles smiled a little. He looked like he might say something else, but he hesitated.

They wandered into the hallway and back towards the door of the apartment. When they got to the door, they stopped and both of them stood there not really knowing what to do. This wasn’t the first one-night-stand he’d had, so Pierre couldn’t quite figure out what was different. Why hadn’t he opened the door, said goodbye, and shut it behind Charles without a second thought?

“Look…uh…you’ve got my number, so if you…you know, you wanted to meet up…or something, you should give me a call,” Charles finally said.

Pierre felt himself let out a little sigh of relief. That’s what he’d wanted to say but hadn’t quite figured out how to. All he knew was that the sex he’d just had was definitely worth a repeat performance.

“’Or something’ sounds good,” he agreed with a cheeky smile.

Charles smirked at him and the cockiness that Pierre already seemed to be used to was instantly back in place.

“I’ll see you around then,” he said.

“Yeah, see you around,” Pierre replied.

Charles opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. As Pierre was about to close the door, Charles turned back around and smiled at him. Pierre returned the smile and closed the door. He leant back against the wood of the door and ran his hand through his messy hair. Then he pushed himself away and headed for the bathroom. He was still grinning to himself as he caught sight of his reflection in the bathroom mirror.


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for the amazing feedback and encouragement on this fic!

Pierre did call. Six days later. It was just long enough for Charles to wonder if he should just get over himself and make the first move, regardless of whether or not he’d told Pierre to call and effectively left the ball in his court. Because there was no way that he was going to miss an opportunity to have Pierre again just because he was too proud to call him first. The sex had been too good to be a one-time only thing. He needed a second time. And maybe a third, and as many as Pierre was willing to join him for, as long as it kept being as amazing as that first evening.

So when Pierre had finally got in touch with him and arranged a get-together at the same pub as before, Charles had been more than a little relieved. Obviously it wasn’t just him that felt the need to repeat their first encounter. Obviously the feeling was mutual. 

They’d gone back to the pub and had a pint, but it had become pretty apparent that they weren’t going to be there long enough to get a second round in. There had been almost an itch beneath Charles’ skin as he sat across the table from Pierre and wondered when would be an appropriate time to suggest that they went back to his apartment. He’d desperately wanted to be with Pierre again; he could hardly contain himself. Fortunately, it seemed that Pierre had been experiencing something similar because he’d downed the remnants of his lager, pushed his chair back and nodded his head to the door in the universal signal for ‘let’s get out of here’. Charles hadn’t needed any further instruction as he’d jumped to his feet immediately and followed him. He’d briefly wondered if he should be embarrassed at how keen he was to leave the pub, but he’d decided that he really didn’t give a shit if it meant he’d be having a repeat performance of their first trip to Pierre’s apartment. 

They’d spent the rest of the evening in Pierre’s bed confirming that the first night hadn’t been a fluke or a one-off. They’d also confirmed that they would definitely be doing it again.

Apparently, Pierre worked weird shifts, which explained why he hadn’t been in touch sooner, but Charles had no interest in tracking when he’d be working. He was only interested in when Pierre would be free to meet up.

They continued to meet up under the pretence of having a pint, as mates. But after one pint, they’d both be grabbing their jackets and heading back to Pierre’s apartment. Eventually, they got to the point where popping into the pub was a ridiculous waste of time, and they both knew it, so they stopped going altogether and Charles would just head straight to Pierre’s apartment instead.

So far, the sex had been as hot as their first night together. Charles was becoming more and more convinced that Pierre was the best fuck he’d ever had. He wondered whether it was just something about how they seemed to fit together and Pierre seemed to read him so well, knowing exactly what he liked and how he wanted it. 

It might have also had something to do with how fit Pierre was. Charles was no slouch: he worked out, he liked to keep in shape, he was proud of his body, and he’d certainly never had any complaints, but Pierre was something else. Charles had never said it out loud, but he secretly thought Pierre had been sculpted by some filthy gods of sex because he was gorgeous. Obviously he needed to be in good physical shape to be a firefighter, ‘ _but_ ,’ as Charles regularly thought to himself as he licked and sucked and kissed his way down Pierre’s body, ‘ _there was being in ‘good shape’ and then there was Pierre_.’ Charles was grateful for the extra gym sessions he’d been attending recently and he couldn’t help but smirk to himself when Pierre seemed to be equally as turned on by him. The way his eyes lingered on his body as soon as Charles got naked definitely helped boost his ego. 

Excellent sex with a totally gorgeous partner was always going to be a great combination and it was all wrapped up nicely in a no-strings-attached package. They were just fucking around with no feelings involved; they weren’t wondering about how serious things were getting, or when they should have deep and meaningful discussions. Charles turned up; they traded mind-blowing orgasms (sometimes several in one evening); Charles left. Simple.

They did get on well though. They were quickly becoming mates.

Pierre, who was at times a little quiet - a little lost in his own head - seemed to perk up, no matter what his mood, when Charles teased him playfully. He would roll his eyes in faux-annoyance when Charles would smack him on the arse, but in the next moment would have him pinned to the nearest wall kissing him with a smile tugging at his lips.

And in turn, Pierre seemed to have an uncanny ability to bring Charles’ cockiness down a notch in a playful way. Charles knew that he had the gift of the gab; he’d always been a charmer, but Pierre seemed to see through his bullshit. He mocked him mercilessly about his fashion choices and the often-hidden nerdy side of Charles that seemed to be making more and more appearances around Pierre, but Charles never felt like he was being cruel. In fact, he felt as comfortable around Pierre as he did around his family and closest friends. 

And Pierre had developed an amazing ability to be able to stop Charles’ charming talk in a few easy steps. His method usually involved his mouth, hands or dick, and Charles didn’t mind at all. 

They’d developed their own kind of personalised banter that always seemed to lead to one, or both, of them yelling out the other’s name as they came because that was the only way to shut each other up and it was all great fun.

Charles thought it was pretty clichéd but they had actually become friends with benefits. ‘ _ Loads of people do it, so it’ll be fine _ _,’_ he thought to himself, when it actually registered in his head what had happened. There were no strings, no feelings or other complicated stuff getting in the way – just the two of them, having a bit of fun and fantastic sex. What could be more perfect? 

***

Charles woke up because he was too hot. They’d forgotten to put the window on vent last night and there didn’t seem to be any fresh air in the room at all. Pierre had probably ‘forgotten’ on purpose seeing as he always seemed to be cold and enjoyed snuggling into Charles’ back and pressing his ice-cold feet against his calves in the night. Charles, on the other hand, was like a human hot water bottle – Pierre’s description, not his own – so he liked to have the window open even on a late November morning like today. He supposed it was a little ironic that Pierre was the one who dealt with fire as part of his day-to-day life, but he was always complaining about being cold.

At first, Charles had wondered if it was a good idea, the whole staying over and waking up in Pierre’s bed thing. He’d wondered if it might change the way things were between them – he didn’t want to complicate their easy-going, purely physical involvement. But, after a brief spell of adjusting to it, Charles had found it seemed to be a fairly obvious choice. It wasn’t like he’d never had a relationship and shared a bed before; it was just different with Pierre, like most things seemed to be. They were just friends obviously, but sharing a bed had seemed to come quite naturally to them.

The first time that Charles had stayed over had been an accident. Pierre had fucked him so well that he’d collapsed in a sweaty heap afterwards and murmured something about needing five minutes before he moved. Pierre had whole-heartedly agreed with that suggestion and had pulled the duvet up and over them.

The next thing Charles knew, he was waking up to find Pierre plastered against his back and early morning sunlight flooding in through the curtains. He’d jolted up, knocking Pierre backwards across the bed and waking him up too, and grabbed for his phone to check the time. It was only half seven and if he’d been at Lando’s, he’d still have had half an hour before he had to get up, but he didn’t have any of his stuff at Pierre’s and he’d need to get back and get showered and changed before he could head into work.

He’d staggered about, fumbling around for his clothes, as Pierre sleepily watched him through half-open eyes. He wasn’t a morning person and Charles’ abrupt wake-up clearly hadn’t been the start to the day he’d hoped for.

At Charles’ constant muttering and swearing, Pierre had buried his head back under the duvet. 

“What you doin’?” he had grumbled into his pillow.

“Trying to find my fucking tie,” Charles had replied. “I’ve got to get back to Lando’s for a shower and to get changed and I’ve got to get to work for nine because I’ve got a meeting first thing. I can’t believe I fell asleep last night. I’m gonna be so fucking late if I can’t find my fucking tie.”

“Charles,” Pierre had grumbled as he had poked his head back out from the duvet. “Calm down, will you?”

Charles had stopped what he was doing for a moment and looked at him incredulously as if Pierre had just said the most ridiculous thing imaginable.

After he’d pushed himself up in bed slightly so his chin was propped on his hand, Pierre had calmly said, “Just leave the ‘fucking’ tie here. You’re going back to your mates’ anyway, so you’ll be getting changed. Next time you come over, bring some stuff for a shower and a change of clothes to leave here, so if you end up staying over again or you fall asleep you don’t have this panic attack again at ridiculous o’clock in the morning, especially when I don’t have to be up for at least another hour.”

Charles had wondered how Pierre had gone from drowsy to making perfect sense in a matter of minutes, but he’d had to admit that he was right. If he was going to be spending so much time at Pierre’s apartment, he might as well have some of his stuff there so he didn’t have to rush back to Lando’s place in the morning if he ended up staying over again.

He’d been about to reply, but Pierre had continued talking.

“Besides, if you stay over, we might even have time for a quickie in the morning, or shower sex,” he’d remarked casually, with a little smirk on his face, and Charles had felt arousal stir within him at the prospect.

He hadn’t taken any further persuading that it was a good idea and, after that morning, Charles had found himself staying over more and more often as the weeks had gone by and when Pierre’s shifts had allowed it.

So it wasn’t unusual for him to have woken up in Pierre’s apartment and it certainly wasn’t unusual for him to be too warm. Pierre seemed to gravitate towards him during the night. Even if they fell asleep on completely opposite sides of the bed, Pierre would end up curled around him somehow by the time they woke up. For the first time in his life, Charles had become the little spoon. And he’d never admit it out loud, but he really liked it. Even though he often woke up because of their combined body heat under the covers, he loved the feeling of Pierre cuddled up to him, wrapped around him protectively, his breath tickling the back of Charles’ neck and his arm slung over Charles’ waist almost possessively.

But all of that was nothing strange, Charles told himself every time he woke up in Pierre’s arms and smiled softly to himself thinking affectionately about how Pierre was like a little squid wrapped around him. He was bound to enjoy waking up to that feeling. Anyone would, surely. It was purely because his body obviously felt comfortable being held. Just a physical reaction.

If he secretly enjoyed the way that Pierre would tighten his grip on him if he started moving about to get up, that was nothing to dwell on. And if he’d taken to leaving him a cup of coffee on his bedside table and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead if he had to leave before the other man had woken up because he was off shift, that was perfectly normal  friendly behaviour. It was only polite really seeing as Pierre had allowed him to crash there again. 

That morning he made a coffee for them both and slipped back under the covers. Pierre had stirred while he’d been in the kitchen so he sat propped up against his pillows as he gratefully received his morning coffee.

“Thanks,” he murmured as he wrapped his hands around the mug. He wasn’t exactly a ‘morning person’, as Charles had quickly learnt, so he took a bit of time to get going when he first woke up. In fact, the only time that Charles had seen him become alert first thing in the morning was when he’d woken Pierre up with a blow-job that had left him crying out Charles’ name within minutes of regaining consciousness.

“It’s freezing this morning,” Pierre commented as he blew over the surface of his coffee.

Charles rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly. “It’s really not,” he remarked. “What are you going to do in January, if you already think it’s cold?”

“Hibernate,” Pierre replied simply.

Charles hummed. “Might have to join you if you plan on staying in bed for a few months.”

It was Pierre’s turn to roll his eyes as he took a sip of his coffee. He glanced at his bedside clock. “Why aren’t you rushing about this morning?”

“I’m going over to my apartment this morning, remember? I’ve not got to be there ‘til ten,” Charles reminded him.

“Oh yeah, I’d forgotten that was today.”

It had been ten weeks since the fire in Charles’ kitchen that had left his home uninhabitable. He’d been quick to organise his insurance company to come out and assess the damage and immediately called in contractors to start work on refitting his kitchen and cleaners to deal with the smoke damage to the rest of the apartment.

Today was the day for him to go over and check out their work. All being well, he’d be moved back in by the end of the day. He’d had weekly progress reviews and was confident that everything had run to schedule. He really hoped so.

As much as he loved his friends, he really didn’t want to stay at their place for any longer than necessary. They were great, they all got on well, it’d been really good of them to let him stay in their spare room on such short notice and for so long, but he needed to get back into his own space. 

And he couldn’t cope with their nosey questions about his ‘relationship’ (as Lando insisted on calling it) with Pierre.

It didn’t matter how many times he told Lando that they weren’t like that, it wasn’t serious between them, he and Pierre were just mates, he always got this silly look on his face when he said he was going out and he just couldn’t resist asking him about it. He’d even roped Alex and George into his comments so they’d started giving him weird looks and winking at him as they sat having breakfast when he came in from Pierre’s before work in the morning. 

Lando seemed to think he was ‘smitten’ (again, his choice of words) and smiled knowingly at him whenever Charles denied such things and told him they were just having a good time.

When he’d told him that they hadn’t even said they were ‘exclusive’, he’d just given him this look and said, “But I bet you haven’t been with anyone else, and I bet he hasn’t either,” like that was supposed to  mean something.

So yeah, he loved his friends, but he needed to get back into his own apartment.

“I’m going to get a shower and then head over to check it out,” Charles said.

“Great,” Pierre replied before taking another long sip from his mug. He clearly wasn’t quite fully functioning yet, but he looked adorable with his hair sticking up in all directions and his eyelids still a little heavy. 

“What time are you on until later?” Charles asked.

“I’m on nine ‘til seven again today,” Pierre replied around a yawn.

“Do you want to come over after your shift then? As long as I’ve moved back in, obviously. Inspect the place. We’ll get a takeaway or something.”

“Sounds good,” Pierre smiled at him. He was just about finished his coffee, so Charles knew he was just about ready to face the day.

“Why don’t we make the most of my lazy start to the morning and head for a shower?” he suggested as he leaned over, kissing Pierre as he lifted the mug out of his hand and placed it on the bedside table. 

Pierre may not have been much of a talker first thing in the morning, but he always reacted well to morning sex, or morning kisses, or morning blow-jobs. He followed Charles as he pulled away, chasing his lips as he leant forward in bed, not worrying about the cold anymore as the duvet slipped down his chest to drop onto his lap.

Charles pressed a few quick pecks to his lips as he continued moving backwards. This, he’d found, was a proven method of getting Pierre out of bed.

“ _ Charles _ ,” Pierre groaned as Charles moved further out of his grasp.

“Come on.” Charles looked at him with a little smile on his face. “We both need a shower anyway, you need to get up so you actually make it into work on time, and if you get up now I’ll have time to give you a blow-job.” 

With that, he turned around and wandered across the landing and into the bathroom. He knew that Pierre would be right behind him within seconds.

***

The inspection of his apartment went well and Charles was absolutely thrilled to be able to move back in as soon as he was ready. As soon as he was ready meant immediately, and he wasted no time in driving over to Lando’s, collecting his belongings and quickly moving them back into their correct places in his apartment.

The contractors had done a great job: the kitchen was as good as new, better in fact. There was no sign of there ever having been a fire, at all. The rest of his home was bright and clean, not a mark on the walls or any lingering odour of smoke.

It took the whole morning and into the afternoon to collect his stuff and move it back in. Then he called into work for a few hours before heading back to the apartment to enjoy the feeling of being back in his own space. He had to admit that it actually felt a little quiet after the weeks he’d spent living with Lando, George and Alex, or staying at Pierre’s. Not that Pierre was particularly noisy or anything, but the lads were definitely pretty chaotic when they were all together and the good-natured arguments and taking the piss out of one another had been constant; it had been nice to have the company, even when they’d been winding him up about Pierre. But he’d soon get used to being on his own again – not that he would be alone all the time. Pierre would no doubt be staying over every once in a while.

It was nearly half-eight when Pierre eventually made it over, and Charles was more than a little pleased to see him. He told himself that it was just because he was so keen to show off his newly repaired apartment and that he was looking forward to having Pierre at his place for the first time, instead of always feeling like he was in other people’s space.

They ordered a Chinese takeaway and spent the time waiting for it having a ‘tour’ and then sitting down with a beer to watch part of the football match on the TV, which neither of them were particularly interested in. 

After they’d eaten their meal, Charles gathered up their plates and led Pierre back into the kitchen to start clearing up. As Charles washed up, Pierre perched himself on the kitchen counter beside the sink and watched him.

“You know, you could dry up, if you’re bored,” Charles told him.

“Hmm, I could,” Pierre replied. “But I’d rather sit here and supervise – check you’re doing it properly. I do like a man who knows how to wash-up in the correct order, you know.”

Charles looked at him doubtfully. “The correct order?”

“Yeah, you know, glasses first, then plates…” He was waving his hand around as he spoke and Charles couldn’t help but smile at him. He was truly ridiculous sometimes, but also so sweet.

“You’re an idiot,” he remarked with a smile as he finished up with the last pieces of cutlery.

“Ah yes, but an idiot who knows correct washing up etiquette, so I’m quite the catch, I’ll have you know,” he laughed.

Charles dried his hands, threw the tea-towel onto the side and stepped closer to Pierre. He moved into the space between Pierre’s parted thighs as he still sat on the kitchen worktop. Running his hands up his thighs, he smirked to himself at the little intake of breath that Pierre took but tried to disguise. He really enjoyed knowing he could have that effect on him with the simplest of touches.

“Someday you’ll make someone a wonderful husband with all of that knowledge, I’m sure, but right now, I’d rather fuck you than have you educating me on the washing up.”

Pierre laughed brightly and shuffled forwards on the counter as if to climb down, but Charles stopped him with his hands holding onto his thighs.

“Where are you going?” he asked as he leant in to press his lips against Pierre’s neck.

As was his usual reaction, Charles had quickly learnt, Pierre gasped slightly at the sensation before threading the fingers of one hand into the hair at the back of Charles’ head.

“I was,” he gasped again as Charles bit down on his neck lightly, “getting down so we could go and get on with the fucking.”

Pulling away so he could look into his eyes, Charles smirked. “Who says we can’t get on with it right here?” 

He slid his hands behind Pierre’s arse and dragged him a little closer to the edge so his already hard cock was pressing against Charles’ stomach through his clothes.

“As in, _right here_?” Pierre asked with a smirk of his own on his face.

“I feel that it’s important that we do,” Charles confirmed, with mock seriousness. “After all, this is technically where we first met.”

Pierre laughed again and Charles grinned, pleased with himself that he had yet again made the other man happy.

“And you had the cheek to call  _ me _ an idiot,” Pierre said, before he pulled Charles closer and kissed him deeply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seeing as I don’t think we’re ever going to get a proper explanation for ‘calamar’, I thought I’d work in my own here (if you spotted it!).


	4. 4

Pierre really hated stuff like this. He hated all the smiling and shaking hands and pretending to be interested in small talk. He just wasn’t cut out for that sort of thing and it made him so uncomfortable. He couldn’t believe his watch manager had forced him to do it. He was on shift for Christ’s sake and, instead of being with the rest of his crew mates, he was stuck in a fancy function suite at a hotel in the city centre, having to plaster a fake smile onto his face anytime someone approached him. He was actually wishing for a massive call-out to come through on his radio so he could escape – that’s how desperate he was.

It wasn’t the purpose of the event that was the problem. It was a silent auction charity evening set up to raise money for a local charity that supported children that had cancer and their families. Pierre was more than supportive of the good cause – it was just the having to pretend he was comfortable around all these posh businessmen and women that he didn’t enjoy.

When he’d arrived for his shift earlier on in the evening, his boss had immediately gathered the whole crew together and told them that they were drawing straws for who would have to attend the event. And he’d meant literally. His announcement had been met with a chorus of groans before each member of the team had had to pull a straw from his fist and Pierre had drawn the short straw, alongside Romain, much to Dan’s amusement. He’d slapped Pierre on the back and laughed at his expression as Pierre had flipped him off before he trailed after Romain. 

Despite the crew’s general complaints about attending these ‘extra-curricular’ (as his boss called them) events, Romain hadn’t even minded being told to attend. In fact, he’d been quite pleased, and probably would have volunteered anyway seeing as he had kids and was a massive softie and seemed to be able to chat away quite happily with anyone he met. He’d disappeared off into the crowd as soon as they’d arrived in the conference suite at the hotel and left Pierre all alone trying to avoid eye contact with random wealthy people who wanted to chat to him and congratulate him on his ‘marvellous’, ‘heroic’ career.

Pierre had shaken a lot of hands since arriving and was now standing in the corner hoping to stay unnoticed for a while as he sipped on his glass of lemonade (he was on duty after all). He scanned the room, observing all of the people schmoozing before his eyes landed on the back of a head that he recognised. The man was dressed in a well-fitting dark navy suit and Pierre knew those shoulders, he knew what the muscles of that back looked like, he knew the dark hair at the back of the man’s head. It was Charles.

He hadn’t seen Charles for a few days; a combination of his shifts and Charles being particularly busy at work had meant that they hadn’t had time to get together. Pierre was pleased to see him now. He’d had no idea that the other man was attending the event and obviously Charles wouldn’t be expecting Pierre to be present seeing as  Pierre hadn’t even known he’d be there until a few hours ago. 

He wondered how close he could get to Charles before the other man noticed him. The idea of surprising him made Pierre smile to himself and he moved away from his position in the corner slightly to begin his stealthy approach. 

After a few paces in Charles’ direction, he came to a halt. Charles hadn’t noticed him, he was still almost completely facing away from Pierre, but he looked to be well and truly absorbed in the conversation he was having.

An older man wearing a stylish black tuxedo was chatting animatedly with Charles. He was laughing brightly at whatever Charles was saying to him and every so often he would lean closer and touch his arm. From where he was standing, Pierre could see that Charles was having an equally good time flirting with the man, if the wide smile on his face was anything to go by. The man sipped from a champagne flute and his eyes sparkled as Charles leant closer and spoke quietly into his ear. It all looked very...intimate. 

Pierre had no idea where it came from, but suddenly he felt a hot wave flash through his entire body. His stomach flipped over and he felt his jaw clenching in anger. No, not anger,  _ jealousy _ . For a moment, he contemplated marching over to them and yanking Charles away, yelling at him, asking him what the hell he thought he was playing at, but then he shook his head to rid himself of such thoughts. Charles wasn’t  his ; he didn’t have the right to do that. They’d never made any sort of commitment to one another. He wasn’t even sure where the flash of jealousy had come from but he had to push it out of his mind because he really had no other option.

He’d known that Charles was a flirt from early on in their encounters - there was a reason why they’d ended up in bed together after only an hour in one another’s company - but seeing him turning that charm on with someone else was not what Pierre wanted to witness. 

‘ _ Shit, you need to get a grip _ ,’ Pierre told himself firmly.

He was about to disappear back to his corner, or perhaps find Romain and make up some bullshit story so he could head back to the fire station, when Charles suddenly turned his head in his direction and their eyes met. There was the merest flicker of surprise on Charles’ face but he recovered from it so smoothly that the man standing opposite didn’t even notice when he turned back to face him.

For a moment, Pierre thought that was all he was going to get: Charles had seen him and dismissed him just as quickly. But to his shock, and pleasure, Charles seemed to quickly wrap up his conversation with the other man, as politely as he could, and then turned to Pierre and made his way towards him. 

He smirked knowingly at Pierre as he approached him without any sort of hesitance, looking as charming and cocky as he had those first few times they’d met up in the pub. His eyes slowly trailed up Pierre’s body as he wandered closer and when they made eye contact again, Pierre could see the desire that had ignited in his eyes. 

“Fancy seeing _you_ here,” Charles remarked casually when he finally stood in front of Pierre.

“Fancy,” Pierre grunted. He was still feeling a little riled by the sight of Charles with that man and he couldn’t quite bring himself to greet Charles with a smile.

“I didn’t know you were coming to this,” Charles said.

“Neither did I,” Pierre replied bluntly.

Charles looked at him questioningly, so Pierre continued. “I drew the short straw. I’m here to represent the station. We donated a visit to the fire station for some kids and my boss made me come.”

“And I can tell you’re just thrilled to be here,” Charles quipped. “I was worried when I saw you. I thought that maybe one of the lots was a ‘date with a fireman’ and I was planning how I was going to outbid some pervy old guy who wanted to take you out.” He was grinning brightly at Pierre as he joked with him.

Pierre huffed out a little laugh at Charles’ comments. No matter his earlier jealousy, he just couldn’t seem to stay mad at the idiot standing before him. 

“Really? And here’s me wondering if it’s you that’s got a thing for older men.” At Charles’ slightly confused expression, Pierre continued. “I saw you...chatting up that man.”

A loud laugh erupted from Charles. “Chatting him up!” he exclaimed like it was the funniest thing he’d heard all night. His eyes were dancing with pleasure and he suddenly looked like he would like nothing more than to drag Pierre off to the loos to have his way with him. 

It was Pierre’s turn to be confused and he wanted to change the subject but he also couldn’t shake the image of Charles flirting with the other man. 

“What are you doing here anyway?” he asked abruptly and he just couldn’t seem to stop himself adding, “And who was that you were talking to?” He cursed himself for asking; he just couldn’t resist. 

He knew that Charles would immediately think he was jealous, not that he would be wrong, and probably tease him about it. He didn’t want to be that sort of guy and he didn’t want Charles to think he was being weird about it. Although, he supposed he _was_ being weird about it. He silently cursed his boss again for making him attend this stupid event. 

“ _That_ was Sebastian Vettel - one of our very, _very_ important clients. Our company has donated a weekend stay at a ridiculously fancy hotel for the auction, so my boss wanted someone to come along and be the face of the business. It looks good to clients that we’re generous, thinking of the community, that sort of thing,” Charles told him as he waved his hand around. “And Seb is a brilliant man - one of the best in the business. He’s taught me a lot over the years that I’ve been working with him and I like to think he’s become a good friend. I guess he’s been like a mentor. He, and his _lovely wife_ , are great people,” Charles added pointedly on the end of his explanation, and Pierre felt his face heat a little at the knowledge that Charles had seen right through him so easily. 

Pierre shoved his hands into the pockets of his heavy work trousers and looked down at his boots. He glanced up when Charles poked him in the arm. 

“You’re cute,” Charles said with a funny little smile on his face and Pierre’s eyes widened slightly at his comment, his cheeks heating again. 

Charles suddenly stepped closer and held out his hand for Pierre to shake almost like they were business acquaintances. Pierre was struggling to keep up with how the conversation had moved but he grasped Charles’ hand on impulse. Charles used their joined hands to tug him a little closer and he patted him on the back soundly.

“You’re coming over to mine after your shift, right?” he said in a low voice as he leant in a little closer. 

Pierre drew in a breath and inhaled Charles’ cologne. 

“I don’t get off ‘til seven in the morning,” Pierre replied, his own voice sounding more husky than it had before.

“I don’t care,” Charles told him. “Come over. And keep your uniform on – I want you to fuck me while you’re wearing it.”

With that, he pressed something into Pierre’s hand and released his grip. He walked away and began mingling with the crowd as though he hadn’t just left Pierre standing there, half-hard in his trousers, in the middle of the room.

Pierre just gaped after him for a few long moments before he realised he was holding something in his hand. He looked down and realised it was a key – the key to Charles’ apartment.

***

His shift had felt like the longest of his life. The combination of the couple of tedious hours spent at the charity event (apart from the minutes spent with Charles) and the knowledge that Charles was waiting for him to get round there, meant that his shift dragged by incredibly slowly. When seven AM finally arrived, he practically ran out of the station to his car and headed straight over to Charles’ apartment.

When he arrived at Charles’ building, he parked up and jogged up the stairs. He was far too restless to wait for the lift. Charles’ teasing words had left him wound up for the remainder of his shift and as much as he was tempted to make Charles wait in the same way that he’d been left desperately wanting all night, he was more keen to actually get into the apartment and do exactly what Charles had requested. The absolute tease. He knew exactly the affect his words would have on Pierre and he knew full well that there was nothing that Pierre could do about it while he was at work.

He was half-tempted to barge into the apartment making a racket, knowing that Charles would still be asleep seeing as he didn’t have to get up yet, but he preferred the idea of sliding into his bed and having the other man wake up to find him right there beside him. He kind of liked Charles when he was just waking up. Well, he liked him in a lot of ways, a lot of the time, (not that he’d admit that to anyone – even himself, really) but there was something soft and sweet about Charles when he was just stirring from sleep. Most of the time, Charles awoke before Pierre when they stayed over at each other’s places but, every so often, Pierre had woken up first and watched as Charles blinked awake slowly, his face all soft and adorably marked with pillow crease-marks. He supposed adorableness wasn’t what he was particularly interested in that morning though – more like waking Charles up and then using the pent up sexual tension he’d been feeling since the charity event. 

Quietly pushing the door of the apartment closed after he’d entered, he pulled off his boots and padded towards Charles’ bedroom. The door was ajar and he pushed it open carefully to avoid any squeaks that might give him away. He peered into the room, letting his eyes adjust to the gloom. The sun had only just started to rise and there was no other light in the room, but Pierre could make out the shape of Charles curled beneath the thick duvet on his bed. Stepping further into the room, he briefly considered stripping out of his clothes, but Charles had been quite adamant about him staying in his work uniform.

When he had arrived at the charity event last night, he had felt like a bit of a scruff standing there in his navy work tshirt and fleece with his technical trousers on amongst all of the women in fancy ball gowns and men in their suits or tuxedos. He hadn’t even been able to wear his dress uniform seeing as he was on duty and could have potentially been called away to a fire at any moment. He’d felt even more out of place when he’d caught sight of Charles looking just like some gorgeous model in his tailored suit. But the fact that Charles seemed to very much enjoy seeing him in his work attire, so much so that he wanted him to keep it on, had quickly erased any self-consciousness from Pierre’s mind. Knowing that Charles was turned on by him wearing it caused heat to race up Pierre’s spine. If he fulfilled Charles’ desire this morning and actually fucked him whilst he was still in his uniform, he was pretty sure that getting dressed for a shift was never going to be the same again. Not that he’d come over wearing his turn-out gear or helmet - that would’ve been ridiculous, and totally against regulations - but his basic uniform was obviously enough for Charles. 

Stepping up to the end of the bed, he could see that Charles was sound asleep, his face smushed into his bedding, his bare shoulders visible as his arms disappeared beneath his pillow. Pierre wondered how Charles ever managed to share a bed with him seeing as he seemed to be quite content to be sprawled across the middle of his mattress this morning. Then he smiled to himself; he liked the idea of Charles making space for him.

He was a little concerned that this idea of slipping into bed with Charles was going to backfire. What if Charles woke up, startled by the feeling of someone climbing into bed with him, and punched Pierre in the face? Although, Pierre reasoned to himself, he’d seen Charles when he’d just woken up and a co-ordinated attack was not something he would probably be capable of. Pierre could easily overpower him – which was an interesting idea in itself, he supposed.

Eventually, he decided that he’d done enough thinking and placed a knee onto the mattress. He carefully climbed up and tried to avoid kneeling on one of Charles’ legs as he moved up the bed until he was hovering over Charles’ form on his hands and knees. His hands were on either side of Charles’ head and he lowered himself down to nose at the hair on the side of his head before he started to place gentle kisses to the delicate skin behind his ear.

Charles came awake gradually, his head seeming to move without any conscious decision on his part to allow Pierre further access to his skin. Pierre ran his tongue down the shell of his ear and watched as a slow, sleepy smile pulled at Charles’ lips. His arms shifted beneath his pillow as he stretched a little. He smiled against his pillow as he moaned in contentment and Pierre was really glad he’d decided to do this.

“Good morning,” he murmured against Charles’ ear.

Charles hummed in agreement. “You smell smoky,” he replied, his voice sleep-rough and sexy as hell to Pierre.

“That’s what happens when you tell me to come over here in my uniform,” Pierre told him as he started to push the duvet down Charles’ back as his hand stroked across his skin. The sight of goose-bumps raising on Charles’ flesh where his fingers travelled was mesmerising and he was more than a little pleased to find that Charles was naked beneath the covers. 

Charles’ eyes opened a little wider so that he could try to get a better look at Pierre in the still gloomy bedroom. “You kept it on?” he asked quietly.

Pierre kissed his shoulder blade. “Of course. You asked me to.”

His fingers continued on their journey across Charles’ back, tracing the muscles and following the ridges of his spine down towards his arse. When he got to the base of his spine, his fingers continued further, between his arse cheeks and down, and then suddenly he stopped at the slickness he’d found. He looked up at Charles’ face and saw him peering back at him with a knowing look and heat in his eyes.

“I couldn’t wait,” Charles explained, his head now pillowed on his arms as looked down the bed at Pierre. “After seeing you at the auction, I came home and I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Pierre swallowed thickly at Charles’ words, his fingers still at the cleft of his arse.

“I kept thinking about your big cock filling me up....and I just couldn’t wait,” Charles repeated. “So I got myself ready for you.”

“ _ Shit _ …Charles,” Pierre groaned. His own cock was rock hard in his work trousers now. The image of Charles fingering himself open to prepare himself for him was driving him wild. He really wished he’d been there to see it. Dipping his fingers lower, he pushed one easily past the ring of muscle into Charles’ already lubed opening. Charles groaned deeply and he pushed back against Pierre’s finger greedily. He slipped a second finger in, causing yet another groan to fall from Charles’ lips. 

“Did you come?” Pierre asked, his voice a little rough, as he thrust his fingers into Charles.

The other man was rocking back against his hand seeking his own pleasure, seemingly already lost in chasing the wonderful sensation, but Pierre stilled his fingers. “Did you come?” he asked again, a little more firmly.

“ _Yes_ ,” Charles admitted breathily, he was still rolling his hips against Pierre’s hand and Pierre nearly groaned at the thought of Charles coming all over himself. “I was imagining you were here fucking me, but it wasn’t the same. I want you to fuck me, Pierre. Come on.”

Pierre was assaulted by images of Charles writhing around in his bed, fingers up his arse, wanking himself to ecstasy as he imagined Pierre slamming into him, and he felt like he could come just from the idea of it. He pulled his fingers away - clearly Charles didn’t need any more preparation - and leaned over Charles’ body to reach into his nightstand and grab the pack of condoms and bottle of lube he kept in there. He moved back behind him and reached for the hem of his t-shirt to take it off, but Charles reached up and stopped him.

“Don’t take it off,” he said with a smirk on his face. “I told you I wanted you to fuck me in your uniform. You have to leave it on.”

Pierre rolled his eyes slightly, wondering if he’d ever say no to Charles, but he left the t-shirt in place. He quickly unzipped his thick work trousers and pushed them down his thighs, along with his boxers, but left them bunched at his knees. He was going to be absolutely boiling when this was over, but it would be worth it, he was sure.

Not willing to waste any more time, he rolled the condom on and quickly squeezed out some lube to coat it, before he pulled Charles up by his hips and lined himself up. He pressed forward slowly so just the tip of his cock was against his hole, but Charles clearly wasn’t willing to wait or be teased. He tried to push back against Pierre, but Pierre held him firmly by the hips.

“Slow down,” Pierre murmured, before he leant forward to kiss his way down his back. “You’ve already got your way, now it’s my turn or you can go back to your fingers.”

Charles actually shuddered at the words, but he stilled his rocking and waited for Pierre to move.

Pierre grasped the base of his cock and slowly moved into Charles. He could almost feel Charles’ effort to hold himself still. He pushed forward until his thighs were pressed against Charles’. They were both panting by the time Pierre had bottomed out and the temptation to pull out and slam back into Charles was almost overwhelming, but Pierre wanted to take his time this morning. If Charles was going to tease him by whispering filthy suggestions in his ear and then leave him to work the remainder of his shift with a hard-on, he was going to make him wait for what he was so clearly desperate to have.

Pierre remained still for as long as he could bear it and was amazed by Charles’ obedience as he stayed on his hands and knees, his back arched, breathing deeply, but not moving to chase his own pleasure. Eventually, Pierre pulled out slowly and then equally slowly he pushed forward again. He started a slow drag in and out of Charles, wanting to draw out the sensation of being inside him for as long as he could. One hand reached around and squeezed at Charles’ balls, then he stroked his length a few times before returning it to its position on Charles’ hip. 

A quiet whine slipped from Charles’ lips, but he didn’t complain, much to Pierre’s amusement. He must have been worried that Pierre would really deliver on his threat to leave him desperate and wanting when, in reality,  there was no way that Pierre would be able to stop fucking him now.

Gradually, Pierre began to build the pace of his movements. He had savoured the slow slide into Charles’ heat, but he knew he couldn’t go on like that for long. He needed more, just like Charles did. He squeezed at Charles’ hips, adjusting his fingers on sweat-dampened skin before he moved back inside him more forcefully. Charles actually groaned at the first stroke and suddenly the silence that he’d managed to maintain was lost as he grunted and moaned at each thrust of Pierre’s cock.

The pace built after that. Charles’ fingers were curling in the duvet as Pierre slammed into him and Pierre’s fingers were leaving white marks imprinted on Charles’ hips as he held onto him.

“Did you imagine it like this?” Pierre asked him between grunts and dragging in gasps of air. “Did you come thinking of me pounding into you?”

“ God …yes, _Pierre_ … _ yes _ ,” Charles panted out. “I wanted you so much.”

“You’ve got me now,” Pierre told him raggedly, sweat dripping down his face. “Touch yourself,” he commanded. He wasn’t even sure where it had come from, but the thought of Charles getting himself off seemed to drive him wild.

Charles obliged instantly. He lifted one hand from the mattress and began stripping at his dick in firm strokes. He was moaning and swearing and yelling Pierre’s name every time his cock grazed against his prostate and Pierre could not tear his eyes away from the way his body arched into each touch and the muscles in his back moved as he took everything that was given to him.

Charles’ orgasm seemed to strike him suddenly. His whole body shuddered, Pierre felt his arse clench around his cock, and Charles cried out as he spilled into his fist and onto the duvet. He was quivering with aftershocks as Pierre continued to pound into him, chasing his own release. Charles was still clenching around him, but he was struggling to stay upright as his arms shook. Pierre leant over his back, causing Charles to moan out, beginning to feel over-sensitive now the rush of his orgasm was fading, and Charles turned his head so he could kiss him deeply, before slamming into him once more and feeling his own cock pulse as his orgasm hit. He closed his eyes, riding the sensation, his hips still twitching forwards into Charles, before he stilled completely and promptly collapsed against Charles’ back.

They both went tumbling onto the bed and then immediately started laughing. When they’d calmed down and caught their breath, Charles rolled on to his side and slid his fingers beneath Pierre’s sweat-soaked t-shirt.

“That was worth the wait,” he declared with his cocky smile back in place.

Pierre scoffed before sitting up a little to drag the t-shirt over his head and then push his trousers and boxers down completely. All of his clothes were thrown over the side of the bed and he lay in a star shape trying to cool down. 

“Some of us had to actually work instead of coming back here and spending the evening wanking, you know,” he said in mock irritation.

“Ah, but it was all for your benefit,” Charles told him as his fingers traced patterns over Pierre’s chest.

Pierre laughed again at that. “Of course it was, Charles. Just you keep telling yourself that. I’m sure you got absolutely nothing out of it.”

Charles’ reply was cut off by the alarm on his phone going off, signalling that it was time for him to get up and get ready for work. He sighed grumpily and looked down at Pierre. “I’ve got to get a shower,” he said. “Stay here.” He pressed a kiss to Pierre’s forehead and climbed out of the bed.

Pierre lay awake listening to the shower running for a bit, but his body was so used to his shift pattern that it decided that seeing as he was in bed after his night shift, it must be time for sleep. He felt his eyelids drooping and tried to force himself to stay awake, but he knew it was a losing battle. Charles would wake him up before he left for work and then he could head home and get some sleep.

***

When Pierre woke up, everywhere was quiet. The shower wasn’t running anymore and there were no sounds of Charles making a cup of coffee in the kitchen.

He ran his hand across his face sleepily and yawned. He felt like he’d slept really deeply and really well, but that couldn’t be right.

“Charles?” he called out, but got no response.

He rolled over, bunching up the duvet around him as he moved. When did he get covered up? The last thing he remembered was being too hot so he was lying naked on the bed. He was still naked under the covers.

His phone was on the nightstand and he pressed the home button to see that it was half three in the afternoon. And there was a message on his phone from Charles. He sat up a little and swiped his phone to life so he could read it.

_ You were asleep when I got out of the shower and you looked so cute that I didn’t want to wake you _ , it started. Pierre wrinkled his nose at being described as ‘cute’ - again.  _ Stay as long as you want and if you’re still there when I get in, I’ll make us something for tea. And you might as well keep the key to my apartment. You can let yourself in whenever you like so we can have a repeat of this morning ;) _

Pierre grinned to himself as he read the message again. Then he burrowed himself down under the covers and blew out a sigh of contentment, perfectly happy to stay exactly where he was.


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I do believe there’s about to be some minor angst here...

Charles had been humming ‘ _Holding out for a Hero_ ’ by Bonnie Tyler since Pierre had arrived at his apartment after his shift. He knew exactly what he was doing and was just waiting for some response from Pierre. He kept glancing over at the other man as he prepared the stir fry for their tea, watching for the moment when Pierre would snap and call him out on his ridiculous humming. And then, he’d attack.

Pierre did keep giving him looks as if to say ‘ _what the hell has gotten into you tonight?’_ but Charles merely grinned at him and carried on humming. It was even getting on his own nerves now, but he was going to see his plan out.

Eventually, Pierre huffed out a sigh and turned to face Charles with narrowed eyes. 

“Alright,” he said firmly, “spit it out. I can tell you’re dying to say something and all this humming has got be leading to something that you’re clearly bursting to get off your chest.”

Trying to look innocent wasn’t easy for Charles, but he turned to Pierre with his best ‘ _I have no idea what you mean_ ’ look on his face. 

“I didn’t know you weren’t a fan of the classics,” he said in mock offence. “Maybe you’d prefer ‘ _My Hero_ ’ by the Foo Fighters?” And with that, he started singing at Pierre: “ There goes my hero, Watch him as he goes…”

He was pointing the wooden spoon at Pierre and laughing as he shimmied his way around him in the kitchen; Pierre watching him in bewilderment the whole time.

“Alright, you idiot,” Pierre said after a few moments of just blinking in confusion at Charles’ antics. “You’ve obviously got something hilarious you want to laugh at me about, or you’ve been drinking all day, and knowing you, I’m going for the first option, so hit me.”

Charles grinned at him again before dumping the wooden spoon on the counter and grabbing a folded up newspaper from down the side of the microwave. He’d shoved it down there when he got home after picking it up on the train. He wasn’t one for reading the local newspapers – it was hardly ground-breaking journalism covering the major news stories of the world - but when he’d got on the train back from his meeting earlier in the day someone had left the paper on the table in front of his seat. Instead of firing up his laptop like normal, he’d decided to flick through the paper. Nothing had particularly caught his interest until he turned yet another page and was confronted by a picture that had made him burst out laughing.

Charles flipped through the pages and then proudly turned it around for Pierre to see. As soon as Pierre’s eyes landed on the article, he shook his head and sighed dramatically.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he grumbled as he tried to snatch the paper out of Charles’ hands.

Charles was too quick though and immediately pulled it out of Pierre’s grasp. “Oi! Be careful. I want to keep this so I can cut it out and frame it. You’re famous!” he exclaimed. “My hero!” He made a kissy face at Pierre and then at the picture of him in the paper.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Pierre told him grumpily.

“ _Rude_ ,” Charles stated with a mock frown. “Why shouldn’t I be proud of you? You  _ are _ a hero – the paper says so. You saved poor Tigger from a fate worse than death, being stuck up in a tree forever taunted by pigeons, and his owner, a Mrs Angela Henderson, 49, praised the heroic actions of the fire brigade, particularly you, Fireman Gasly, in rescuing the poor feline.” Charles was having a brilliant time as he quoted parts of the report and added in his own details.

Pierre finally managed to grab the paper out of his hands and stared down at the article with such a sulky look on his face that Charles almost stopped winding him up.

“We weren’t even there for that. We’d had a call-out to a wheelie-bin fire and then that woman just collared us on our way back to the truck so we could hardly say no. How the fuck did they even get the pictures?” Pierre was grumbling as he looked down at the pictures of himself, one half-way down the tree with Tigger in his arms, and one as he’d reached the bottom handing the damn cat over to its owner.

“I’d guess someone with a smart phone,” Charles told him. “You know everything gets caught on camera these days and the arrival of a fire engine and the appearance of some hunky firemen was bound to attract attention. Besides, it’s all good PR, you know.”

Pierre scrunched up his face at Charles’ words and then threw the paper onto the dining table. Mrs Henderson’s face smushed alongside Tigger’s in the main picture still beaming up at him.

Charles closed the gap between them and placed his hands on Pierre’s hips. “You know, you really are a hero,” he said as he looked at him.

“Oh, stop it,” Pierre said as he rolled his eyes. He looked so uncomfortable under the praise and he wouldn’t meet Charles’ eyes.

Charles couldn’t tell if he still thought that he was mocking him or if he genuinely couldn’t accept what Charles was telling him. He pressed his lips to Pierre’s cheek and slowly kissed his way along to his mouth, using the fingers of one hand to gently lift his chin so he could kiss him properly. He felt something tender as he looked at Pierre’s slightly flushed face.

With their faces so close, Charles could see the different shades of blue that made up Pierre’s eyes. 

“Hey,” he said as he cupped Pierre’s cheek. “I know I was winding you up, but I really am proud of you. You’re very brave. Not everyone could do what you do every shift.”

Pierre huffed out a little laugh, leaving Charles wondering whether he’d actually believed him. “What? You mean, saving cats from trees?” he asked.

“No. You know what I mean.” Charles kissed him again, walking him backwards and pressing him against the kitchen counter then grinding their hips together in an attempt to lighten the mood again.

Pierre had been kissing him back quite happily, but he suddenly pulled back slightly and his eyes slid sideways to look in the direction of the oven. 

“You know, I might have to go into firefighter mode if you don’t turn off that hob.”

Quickly realising that he’d forgotten all about the stir fry that was cooking, Charles immediately moved to turn the heat off. He turned back to Pierre sheepishly.

“Looks like you’ve got a bit of a bad habit there,” Pierre remarked with a raised eyebrow. “Not the first time you’ve left something unattended on the hob.”

Charles shrugged apologetically, not wanting Pierre to actually give him a lecture about fire safety in the kitchen.

“I might start worrying that you did it on purpose, just so you can see me action again,” Pierre teased.

Rolling his eyes, Charles turned back to the hob to check on the state of their meal, hoping it wouldn’t be ruined. He couldn’t actually smell burnt food so he hoped it wasn’t too late. “Yeah, yeah,” he nodded along with Pierre’s comments. “Whatever. I’d rather you stuck to saving cats than running into burning buildings,” he said casually, not really thinking about his words until Pierre put a hand on his arm and turned him round.

“What d’you mean by that?” he asked as he looked at Charles quizzically.

Suddenly feeling extremely exposed, Charles just shrugged and tried to plaster an easy smile onto his face. It felt wrong, it felt false, and he was sure that Pierre would be able to see through it. “Nothing,” he said trying to sound casual, “I didn’t mean anything.”

Pierre eyed him critically, clearly sensing that their conversation had suddenly transitioned from their usual teasing banter to something else entirely more serious. 

“Charles…you…it was a bit of a weird thing to say if you didn’t mean anything, though,” Pierre stumbled over his words as he clearly tried to get to the bottom of what was happening.

Charles could feel something like panic bubbling inside his stomach. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud – it had just slipped out. But he meant it. The idea of Pierre tackling dangerous fires day in, day out, had started to freak him out. And he didn’t know why. No wait - that was a lie that he kept telling himself. Of course he knew why.

He felt like he’d already lost too many people for someone his age. Too many people he loved. Sometimes he wondered if he was just being dramatic, but, no matter how much of a brave front he put on for his mother, or his brothers, or his friends, losing his father and then his godfather had torn him apart. 

And now, as he got closer to Pierre, he was terrified that he was going to lose him too because Pierre’s  job actually put him in harm’s way. He knew that it was Pierre’s job and he understood that he went into a fire with all the right equipment and he was trained to know what to do, but he’d started to fear the ‘ wha t ifs?’ that life seemed to throw at him. 

He’d never seen his father’s illness coming. He hadn’t been prepared for Jules’ accident. What if Pierre was just going to be the next person he lost along the way? 

Charles had been struggling with the fact that he felt more for Pierre than he could even admit to himself. Every time he so much as thought about making his ‘relationship’ with him something more, he forced the idea out of his head. He didn’t do serious, they hadn’t started this with the idea of it ever becoming anything more, Pierre was his friend and he’d lose that if he suggested that they became anything else: he had so many arguments in his head about why he couldn’t tell Pierre the truth. And he was forcing himself to stick to it, so much so that he just confused himself every time he even started to think about it. Avoiding thinking about it was the best plan, he’d decided.

And there was absolutely no way that he was going to tell Pierre about what had happened to his father or Jules. That was too personal, too much detail for the sort of relationship that they had. They were friends who fucked, not shoulders to cry on. Pierre wouldn’t want to know about it. He’d think Charles was being dramatic and projecting his fears just because Pierre had a dangerous career. 

Charles was shaken from his racing thoughts by Pierre speaking again. 

“You do know it’s all part of my job, right?” he asked, and it was so obvious that he was trying to keep things light.

And Charles knew for sure in that moment, that Pierre wasn’t interested in anything deeper than being mates and having sex, because he clearly didn’t want to have some heart-to-heart about how Charles felt or his fears about what might happen. He obviously didn’t want to hear about how Charles was scared of losing him.

He plastered on his brightest grin and rolled his eyes dramatically again. “Ha, ha,” he said. “You know, you should be a comedian.” He was working hard to pull the conversation back from anything serious. He just wanted to forget it – he was never going to voice his feelings about any of this to Pierre. “I just meant I don’t get how you can want to go running into a burning building, when most sane people are running  out of it.”

Pierre was still watching him thoughtfully. “Someone’s got to do it,” he replied easily.

And while that answer did nothing to make Charles feel any better, that was the end of the conversation. Thankfully, Pierre seemed willing to drop it and Charles quickly drew his attention back to their slightly overcooked stir fry. 

He refused to think about it anymore. 

He refused to think about it as he looked at Pierre across his little dining table as they ate and he refused to think about it as he lay awake in bed that night too.

***

Christmas had been quiet.

Charles had spent the ‘big day’ with his mother and brothers, while Pierre had been on shift and then spent the rest of the festive season being ‘smothered’ (as he described it) by his well-meaning but intense family.

They’d said they wouldn’t do presents for one another because that wasn’t the sort of thing that they did - obviously. But when they’d met up the day before Christmas Eve, they’d both presented each other with a gift, and then laughed at one another because they were so similar.

Fortunately, neither of them had gone for anything serious.

It was obvious that Charles was dying for Pierre to unwrap his present if the grin splitting his face was anything to go by. Pierre had pulled the gift from the bag to find a dark blue t-shirt with one of the photos of himself from that stupid newspaper article about the cat enlarged on the front. Underneath the picture, the words ‘Not All Heroes Wear Capes’ were printed. Charles had exploded into hysterical laughter as Pierre held the t-shirt up to his chest and rolled his eyes at Charles’ ridiculousness.

Then it had been Charles’ turn and he’d eagerly ripped the garish wrapping paper off his present to reveal a 2021 firefighters calendar. Pierre had simply raised his eyebrows and smirked at Charles who was examining his gift. He’d turned it over immediately to check each month but then frowned. “I have to say I’m a bit disappointed – I thought you were supposed to be Mr. September,” he’d laughed and then told Pierre that he was going to print a photo of his face to stick over the current, sub-par Mr. September’s head.

They hadn’t seen much of each other over the festive period after that, but they’d made plans to see each other in the new year. 

And then, in early February, Charles had made plans for Pierre’s birthday.

Charles liked to think he was pretty cunning and he’d figured out when Pierre’s birthday was without having to ask him.

Knowing Pierre like he did, he got the feeling that the other man wouldn’t want a huge fuss over his birthday but he still wanted to do something nice for him. He worked out Pierre’s shift pattern and knew that he was on a day shift on his birthday which meant he could ask him to come over after that. Coming over in the evening after his shift was nothing out of the ordinary so Charles knew he’d be able to surprise him with a home-cooked meal, some dramatic action movie (probably involving fast cars) and then an amazing round of birthday sex. The perfect plan.

Even when Pierre told him that he’d be popping to the pub after his shift with his crew mates, that didn’t matter. There was still plenty of time for what Charles had planned.

He got away from work an hour early so he had time to go and buy what he needed for their meal as well as some beers, and then headed home to start getting everything ready.

Eight o’clock came and went and Charles was waiting patiently for Pierre to arrive. He wasn’t expecting him until after eight anyway so he was hoping any time now he’d hear the tell-tale sound of Pierre’s key scraping in the lock and him kicking his boots off in the hallway. It was amazing how used to it Charles was, even though he’d only given the other man the key not that long ago.

He pottered about in the kitchen, checking on the food every now and again, tidying up, and trying his best not to keep checking the time. Another hour rolled by and there was still no sign of Pierre. Charles checked his phone and found no sign of communication from, him but he wasn’t ready to give up yet.

At ten o’clock, he was starting to the think that he might have to face up to the fact that Pierre wasn’t going to make it for dinner. The food was completely ruined and he tried hard not to feel too disappointed that he’d spent so much time over it as he scraped it all into the bin and chucked the pots into the sink. He couldn’t even contemplate washing it all up now – it felt too much like admitting defeat. And it felt like a kick in the teeth.

This was exactly why anything more than ‘friends with benefits’ was a bad idea. If you tried too hard, made too much effort, let your heart start making decisions and plans, you just ended up disappointed and hurt when things didn’t work out. 

He knew it wasn’t Pierre’s fault – not really. He hadn’t even told Pierre about his plans, thinking that a surprise would be…what? Nice?  _ Romantic _ ? God no, that wasn’t why he’d gone to all that effort and kept it a secret. Was it? 

Charles angrily shook his head and stomped into his living room. Maybe the whole evening wasn’t ruined. Pierre would turn up eventually and even though they’d missed out on the food, they could still watch a movie or even just head straight to bed. That was what they were good at after all. He slumped down onto the sofa and turned the television on. He’d wait up for Pierre and then drag him off to bed so the other man could make it up to him. That would be good enough. That would make up for his other plans not working out. Wouldn’t it?

***

Charles awoke to the feeling of his back twinging in protest. He squinted and then rubbed at his eyes, looking at the television that was still flickering away quietly, the news channel on the screen. Everything was exactly as he’d left it when he’d sat down on the sofa. And there was no sign of Pierre. Charles looked at the screen again and his heart sank. 1:14am the little clock in the corner of the screen showed. He grabbed his phone from the arm of the sofa and lit up the screen. Nothing. Not a text or a call, just nothing. Pierre hadn’t even bothered to text and say where he was or what he was doing.

Charles pushed himself up from the sofa and turned the television off. He wandered back through to the kitchen, switching off the lights as he went. For a moment, he paused in the doorway. He glanced at his phone but no matter how much he willed it, there was no communication from Pierre.

Maybe if he went to bed and drifted off to sleep, Pierre would come and let himself in and wake him up again. He thought about it for a moment, almost allowing himself to smile at the prospect, but then he frowned and shook his head angrily. What sort of sad, desperate loser was he? Waiting for Pierre to come over and give him some attention when he’d finally got bored with his mates. No chance, that wasn’t how things worked between them. That wasn’t how Charles worked. He stomped to the front door of his apartment, grabbed the chain and sulkily slammed it into the bolt on the door frame. Even if Pierre decided to grace him with his presence, he wasn’t getting in now and that was exactly what Charles wanted. Right? He huffed out a frustrated sigh and headed to his bedroom. As he crawled into his bed and pulled the covers up over his shoulders, he wondered why everything felt so heavy and why he felt quite so hurt.

***

The following evening, Charles was busy. He’d been busy all day. So busy, in fact, that he hadn’t had any time to even acknowledge the messages from Pierre on his phone.

He knew he was acting like a brat. He knew he was being dramatic. He knew this wasn’t how he was supposed to feel about his ‘friend’. But he couldn’t help it. He was upset and angry and confused about what had happened and how he felt about it all. He kept telling himself he needed to get a grip. But he was kind of enjoying making Pierre work hard for his attention.

He was sitting at his little dining table with his laptop in front of him when he heard the door of the apartment open. He actually tensed a little, but then forced his face to relax.

Pierre wandered into the kitchen and Charles glanced up at him quickly before focusing back on his screen. 

“Alright?” he said simply. He watched Pierre hover about near the sink from the corner of his eye, feigning indifference to his presence.

“Yeah. Are you?” Pierre asked. Charles could hear the tone of confusion and was it concern in Pierre’s voice?  _Good_ , he thought petulantly. 

Charles looked up at him questioningly, keeping his face blank, apart from his raised eyebrows trying to look as innocent as he could manage despite knowing that he’d purposefully made Pierre wonder what was going on.

“Just…well, I text you earlier…a few times actually, and you didn’t get back to me. I thought something was wrong.”

Charles’ heart did a funny little jump at the words. Pierre obviously did care; he  _ was _ affected by Charles not being in touch with him. But he wasn’t quite ready to let him off the hook just yet.

“I’ve been busy,” he stated simply and turned his focus back to his laptop. 

“Too busy to check your phone?” Pierre asked. There was definitely a tone of irritation creeping into his voice and Charles wasn’t prepared to become the ‘bad guy’ in this discussion.

“About as busy as you last night, I suppose,” Charles muttered, still facing the screen in front of him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Pierre snapped. “We got caught up on a call-out so we were later going to the pub than we’d planned. I told you we were going after shift. You know what the lads are like; one pint turned into four and then it was really late. I don’t get what the problem is. It’s not like I promised I’d be coming over or anything.”

Charles did look at him as he finished speaking. “You could have called, or at least text, to let me know you weren’t coming, that’s all.”

“It was late when we left the pub. I didn’t want to disturb you,” Pierre said simply. He still looked annoyed that Charles had challenged him about his whereabouts. “And I didn’t realise that I had to give you regular updates about what I was doing or where I was.”

Charles scowled at him. He didn’t like the fact that Pierre was turning this back on him, like he was the one who had done something wrong. “D’you know what? You’re right,” he replied sarcastically. “It’s not common courtesy to let someone know if you’ll be popping over. Or even that you’re tired and just going to head home. I shouldn’t have expected that from you. I shouldn’t have expected that you’d just drop me a quick text to say you’re okay. But it would have been nice and then I wouldn’t have gone to the effort…” He suddenly stopped talking, afraid that he’d said too much, revealed too much about how hurt he felt. This wasn’t what they did. He pushed himself up from his seat and walked over to the kettle to make a cup of tea. He needed to stop this conversation now.

“Gone to the effort of what?” Pierre asked from behind him.

Charles’ shoulders tensed. “Nothing,” he said quietly.

He felt Pierre step up behind him and then his hands on his waist as he turned him round to face him. Pierre’s face had softened from the obvious frustration that had been there before and Charles ducked his head, unable to look him in the eye. This was too much. He might as well have had hearts in his eyes and he was terrified of Pierre seeing them. He needed to get a grip.

“Do you want a cup of tea?” he asked, desperate to change the subject. He slipped out of Pierre’s grip and went to the cupboard to grab two mugs, knowing that Pierre rarely turned down a cup of tea after a shift.

“Charles…” Pierre said from behind him.

He brushed past Pierre again as he placed the mugs down on the counter. Drawing in a breath and plastering a smile on his face, he turned to face him again. 

“Look, I’ve had a long day, a long couple of days actually, so I was just sulking,” he forced out with a shake of his head and a little chuckle. It was a crappy lie but the best he could come up with. Hopefully, it’d be enough to cover his behaviour and throw Pierre off from whatever he’d been thinking was going on. “You can’t leave a man hanging around waiting to get his end away and not expect him to be grumpy,” he added with a carefree shrug.

Pierre’s eyebrows rose but a smile appeared on his face. He stepped into Charles’ space and patted him on the cheek as he spoke. “Aw, you’re all grumpy because you didn’t get sex,” he cooed at Charles. It seemed like the lie had worked – Pierre had seemingly immediately forgotten Charles’ odd behaviour. He reached his hands behind Charles and squeezed his arse, before pressing forwards and kissing him. “Would you like me to make it up to you?” he murmured against Charles’ lips when he drew away.

Strangely enough, Charles almost wanted to say ‘no’. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to have sex with Pierre – he couldn’t get enough of the other man - but he was quickly realising that the problem was that maybe the sex just wasn’t  enough . Half of him wanted to sit Pierre down and have  _ that _ conversation with him, but the fear of what that might mean, and what he risked in raising the issue, was too much. It was easier to just take what he could get for now and, besides, he really did want to fuck Pierre. So everything was fine – if he kept telling himself that, eventually it would be. 

He put on his best faux ‘ _I’m not impressed_ ’ face and blinked at Pierre slowly. “You’ve got some serious work to do, Gasly.”

“I’m always up for a challenge,” Pierre told him with a wink.

Charles couldn’t help but huff out a laugh at his ridiculous cheekiness. He pretended to be reluctant as Pierre pushed him towards his bedroom, but who was he kidding, really? 


	6. 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this today as Pierre fans across the world mourn his hair. Sad times.
> 
> On a more serious note, there is discussion of death in this chapter. Nothing detailed, but just wanted to give you the heads up. So, prepare for a little bit more angst (and a side of comfort). Also, it’s a nice long chapter for your reading pleasure.

Pierre’s shift hadn’t started too badly really, but that had changed suddenly and dramatically. A few hours before he was due to go home, a call had come in about a house fire. The sound of the alarm blaring through the fire station still sent a thrill through Pierre every time it rang out causing him and his watch mates to jump up and run for the engine. 

They’d responded and headed out to the call as normal. When they’d first arrived, it had looked like so many other house fires they’d attended. Flames licking at the walls, bursting out of smashed windows; people standing around outside in shock, staring back at their home in horror. The fire crew had jumped into action, their watch manager immediately assessing the situation and barking out orders for each member of the watch.

Two members of the crew had been sent to round up the residents of the neighbouring houses and get them outside. The row of houses was terraced and fires could easily spread. There had been no answer from the house next door and some of the people already milling about on the street had said that the woman who lived there would be out at work at that time of the day. Pierre had wondered whether that was a blessing or not when they realised that the fire had indeed spread through the roof space from the first house into the one adjoining it. He wasn’t sure which would be worse – standing helplessly watching your home be destroyed by the flames, or returning to find it smouldering without having a clue what had gone on.

Pierre had been pulling on his breathing apparatus in preparation to enter the still burning house and relieve the first team that had gone in, when he’d heard a shout from the crowd of people standing in the street. Looking up in the direction that the man was pointing in, he’d seen that the owner of the neighbouring house was actually at home after all. She had been banging on her bedroom window, eyes wide, screaming for help between coughing and trying to cover her mouth. The smoke behind her in the room was obvious.

Pierre and several members of the crew had rushed to the house, breaking the door down only to be met by a ferocious fire burning on the stairs. They’d battled against it and managed to make it up to the woman’s bedroom, bursting through the door to find the room full of thick, black smoke. Unable to see anything through the smoke in the room, Pierre had felt about in the dark until his hand had brushed against something soft and he’d found the woman collapsed in front of the window. Even in the darkness of the room, she didn’t look good; there weren’t any signs of movement, but maybe it wasn’t too late. Pierre had lifted her and got her out as quickly as possible, rushing her straight to the paramedics who had been waiting outside.

She hadn’t survived. Smoke inhalation had killed her before the crew had managed to get to her.

Pierre had stared at her for a long time. He’d been able to hear the crying from the woman’s neighbours, his crew still rushing about finally getting the fire under control and extinguishing it, his boss’ orders, and the sound of more sirens as the police arrived and the fire investigation team pulled up. They’d want to interview him about what had happened. That was procedure when they’d had a fatality whilst on a job. He’d stared at the woman until the paramedics covered her up with a white sheet and then turned back to his boss. There was always plenty to be done even after the fire had been tackled.

***

Pierre wasn’t really sure how he’d ended up outside Charles’ door, or how long he’d been standing there. 

Usually, when he’d had a shift like the one he’d just had, he’d head straight home and throw back enough beers to send himself into a deep, hopefully dreamless, sleep. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. But tonight, he’d left the fire station and felt like he needed to be with someone – not just someone,  _ Charles _ . He’d just driven on autopilot and found himself standing staring at the front door of Charles’ apartment. He had a key, but for some reason he hadn’t made any attempt to use it. He didn’t even know how long he’d been there.

His phone suddenly bursting into life in his pocket shook him awake from his trance and he fished it out to see Charles’ name on the screen. Before he had time to answer the call, the door to the apartment was yanked open and Charles was standing there looking at him bemusedly with his phone still to his ear.

Charles lowered the phone and ended the call, a confused smile on his face. 

“What are you doing?” he asked brightly.

“I was just…” Pierre trailed off. 

He felt so out of it, he couldn’t even string a sentence together. It was stupid really. It wasn’t like he’d never lost anyone on a call-out before. That was part of their job – they had to accept that sometimes they couldn’t save everyone, despite their best efforts. But that just didn’t seem good enough when he pictured that poor woman’s terrified face. It wasn’t good enough when he remembered what had happened  _ before _ . He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, not wanting to go to that place in his head. When he opened them again, Charles was looking at him with concern written all over his face. 

Charles reached out to him, sliding his hand around the back of his head and stroking the side of his face gently with his thumb. 

“Are you alright, Pierre?” he asked softly.

Pierre looked up at him and felt like he could cry. He needed this; he needed Charles. This was why he’d come here. 

“I…it was...a bad shift,” he managed to say.

A gentle, understanding smile pulled at Charles’ lips. “Come in,” he said quietly, letting Pierre pass him as he shut the front door.

Pierre toed off his shoes and wandered into the kitchen. He felt exhausted, like he could sleep for a week. But he was glad he was on shift again tomorrow. He would have hated it if he knew he had the next four days to kick around at home overthinking about what had happened, overanalysing every moment, every decision, which would inevitably lead his mind down a dark road of ‘what ifs’ and blame.

Charles came up behind him and wrapped his arms around him. He nuzzled his face into the hair behind Pierre’s ear and Pierre felt himself melting a little at the sensation. It wasn’t even a sexual thing; he just wanted the comfort. He leaned back against Charles, his head tipping back, and closed his eyes. 

“Why don’t you go and get into bed?” Charles murmured against his ear.

It sounded like a wonderful idea, but he still felt the need to protest for some reason. “It’s early,” he replied.

“Who cares?” Charles asked quietly. He turned Pierre around in his arms and kissed his forehead. “Go on,” he said. “I’ll be through in a few minutes.”

For once, Pierre did as he was told. He wandered into Charles’ bedroom, stripping off his clothes and dropping them on the floor as he went. He knew it drove Charles crazy when he left his stuff all over the place, but he really couldn’t be bothered to worry about it. He climbed into bed in just his boxers and pulled the duvet up over himself.

As he lay there, he knew he’d have to sort his head out when Charles came to join him. He probably wasn’t in the right frame of mind for sex, but that’s what they did, didn’t they? Wasn’t that why he’d come over here? Because he needed comfort? And surely the best way for him to get that was letting Charles take his mind off everything that had happened on his shift. Charles wouldn’t want him pouring his heart out and crying about how life was unfair. That certainly wasn’t what they did, so he’d have to toughen up and get over it.

Pierre could actually feel his eyelids growing heavier by the time Charles came into the room, but he forced himself to wake up a bit again. Charles placed two mugs on his bedside cabinet before stripping down to his underwear and climbing into bed beside Pierre. He sat propped up against the headboard and smiled down at him softly.

“I made you a cup of tea,” he said quietly.

Pierre pushed himself into a sitting position, leaning back against the pillows, and gratefully accepted the mug that Charles held out to him. 

“Thank you,” he said before he blew across the surface of his tea. It was far too hot to drink yet so he just stared down at the drink for a few moments.

“D’you want to talk about it?” Charles asked eventually. “I mean, about what happened today. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He actually sounded a little nervous and Pierre thought it was incredibly endearing really.

Pierre leaned back to place his mug on top of the bedside cabinet and then moved himself further down the bed a little. Charles somehow seemed to understand what he was doing and also shuffled down so his head was against his pillows. Shuffling closer to Charles once he was settled, Pierre laid his head on his chest and immediately relaxed as Charles wrapped his arm around his back.

“We got called out to a house fire,” he began, finding it easier to talk laid down like this. “The family were all out and safe, we cleared the other houses in case it spread, all routine stuff. But there was a woman…” He stumbled over his words a little before carrying on. “She was next door and we didn’t know. She was trapped and by the time I got to her…it was too late.”

Charles’ arm had tightened around Pierre as he spoke. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. His voice sounded a little rough and Pierre was about to look up at his face, when Charles pressed a kiss against the top of his head and stilled his movement. “I’m sure you did everything you could.”

Pierre sighed heavily. “I just wish it was enough.”

“I can’t imagine how you must be feeling,” Charles said quietly. 

Pierre squeezed his eyes closed. Maybe it was something about the way they were lying together, or the way Charles seemed to be willing to listen, but Pierre suddenly felt like he could tell him anything. Things he hardly ever spoke about seemed desperate to be shared. 

He blew out a long shuddering breath. He opened his eyes and stared at the wall in Charles’ bedroom. 

“When I joined the training academy, my best friend joined up with me. We’d both wanted to join the service since we were kids - we’d always wanted to be firefighters - so of course we signed up together. We made it through training but we were assigned to different stations. We both loved it - we were doing what we’d always wanted to do. He wanted to get transferred over to the same crew as me so we could work together again and it was going to be so great. But about eighteen months ago, Anthoine, he...” Pierre trailed off wondering if he shouldn’t have started telling this story - wondering how he could put it into words - but knowing it was too late to stop now. He swallowed thickly. “There was an incident...at a fire his crew attended. He...he didn’t make it.”

He squeezed his eyes closed again not wanting Charles to see or feel the hot tears that were burning behind his eyelids. 

“Pierre...” Charles breathed out. “I’m so sorry.” His arm had tightened around Pierre’s back again as he pulled him closer. 

“Every time we help someone...I always think of him. I think of how it was what he wanted to spend his life doing. I think of how it would have made him proud. I...I nearly quit after he died. I was so close to just walking away from it all and giving up - how could I carry on doing the job that had killed my best friend? But I knew he’d want me to keep doing it. He’d tell me not to give up. 

“But sometimes...days like today...it just...it just reminds me of what we all lost. And there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t help that lady today and I couldn’t help Anthoine. I wasn’t even there. If we’d been on the same crew, I could have helped him. If I’d have told him to hurry up and put his transfer in, he wouldn’t have been there that day. I just...I don’t know...I wish things were different.”

Despite his anguish, Pierre could hardly believe he’d just said all of that. He didn’t know what had come over him and he suddenly dreaded Charles’ reaction. He knew that the other man wouldn’t be cruel about it, wouldn’t march him to the front door and kick him out because he’d poured his heart out about his grief, but he didn’t want to have made things awkward between them. He didn’t want Charles to suddenly think things were getting too serious and take a step back. He wasn’t sure he could deal with losing Charles too. 

Charles drew in a deep breath, but Pierre didn’t dare look up at him. 

“I don’t know what to say,” Charles told him quietly. “Nothing I say will make you feel better about losing him. You’re allowed to be sad; you’re allowed to mourn him. But don’t think about all the things that could have happened differently - that never helps. 

“I know it’s easy for me to say, but think about all of the people you  have saved and all of the people you’ll keep saving. That’s how you choose to honour him.”

Pierre blinked a few times and realised that Charles’ words had actually helped. 

Charles was quiet for a while, his hand now stroking up and down Pierre’s back, then he said, “I know it must be really hard for you, but I’m glad you told me.”

Shuffling a little in the bed, Pierre finally looked up at Charles. There was strange expression on his face, almost like he was trying to hold in his own emotions. 

“I’m glad I told you too,” Pierre agreed, and he was surprised that he actually meant it. Charles had been amazing and Pierre really appreciated how he’d just let him talk about how he felt. Despite the support of his crew mates, who knew exactly what he’d been through, he rarely got to get his dark thoughts out of his head. “I’m sorry I dropped all this on you out of the blue like that. I’m sure it wasn’t what you were expecting when you opened the door tonight.”

Before Charles could respond, Pierre yawned widely. 

Charles looked down at him as Pierre glanced up looking a little sheepish. 

“You should get some sleep. You’ve had a shitty day and you look ready to drop,” Charles told him with a gentle smile. 

Pierre’s eyes widened in surprise. “Don’t you want…you know. I thought you’d want sex or something.” 

He could feel the heat in his cheeks and wondered after everything they’d done together - and done to one another - why he felt embarrassed saying it.

He was even more surprised by the little frown on Charles’ face like he’d said something that had upset him. He’d expected Charles to either take him up on the offer or laugh at him, not look the way he did at Pierre’s words.

Shifting them both a little so Pierre was lying back against the pillow and Charles could lean over him, Charles spoke quietly. “It’s not that I don’t want to. You’re in my bed - of course I want you; I always want you. But after the day you’ve had, the things you’ve just told me...and the way you look right now...I think sleep is all you need.”

It must have been the emotions of the day finally getting to him because Pierre felt the sting of tears burning at his eyes again as he listened to Charles’ caring words and he quickly closed his eyes again to avoid Charles seeing.

“Get some sleep,” Charles said as he pressed a kiss to Pierre’s temple. He slid down the bed a little and draped his arm across Pierre’s chest, pulling him close as Pierre rolled onto his side so Charles could spoon up behind him.

Something felt like it wanted to burst out of Pierre’s chest as he lay wrapped in Charles’ arms. It was like the warmth of Charles’ body pressed up against him had filled him up with something else that he couldn’t touch but he knew it was there. Putting a name to the feeling was far too scary for right now. He just wanted to lie there with Charles and sleep. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, not even sure if Charles would hear him. When he felt Charles’ arm pull him a little closer still, he knew he had. 

***

Pierre jolted awake. Charles had kicked him in the shin again. On some nights, he’d noticed that Charles twitched and kicked a lot and on others he slept like the dead, hardly moving. He wondered if Charles was dreaming when he got particularly restless, but he’d never raised the issue.

It appeared that Charles had kicked him once and then fallen still, his breathing deep and even, his face relaxed. It was still early: the sun was just beginning to rise, pale early morning light through the curtains.

Pierre took the opportunity to just look at Charles. It was rare for him to be awake first; it had happened a few times before but Charles had always stirred not long after Pierre. Now it seemed that Charles was still deeply asleep, with no signs of him waking up any time soon. So Pierre just looked at him. Maybe it was a bit weird. He knew that Charles would make fun of him if he knew he’d done it, but he didn’t want to waste the opportunity.

His eyes roamed across Charles’ face. His soft pink lips were slightly parted as he breathed deeply. The dim sunlight was already highlighting the strands of different shades of brown in his dark hair. He propped himself up on his elbow to look down at Charles. The faint freckles across his cheeks and nose seemed more obvious somehow. Maybe because, for once, Charles was completely still and Pierre could actually just look at them. And now he was looking, he realised how  _ beautiful _ Charles was. Of course he’d always thought Charles was fit. That was obvious. But it suddenly dawned on him that Charles was so much more than that and he was sure that he’d never meet anyone who took his breath away like Charles did.

The urge to do something suddenly became too much. He couldn’t resist the temptation to touch anymore, so he leant down and pressed a soft kiss to Charles’ cheek. He stroked his thumb across his eyebrow and then gently traced the pattern of his freckles across his cheek with the tip of his finger.

Blinking sleepily, Charles’ eyelids fluttered open at his ministrations, and then he smiled warmly at Pierre.

“G’morning,” Charles murmured, his voice hardly above a whisper. He was all sleep soft and lovely, and Pierre almost wanted to burst with how much he was feeling as he watched him waking up gradually.

“Morning,” he whispered against Charles’ cheek, before reaching up and pressing a kiss to his lips.

Charles hummed in contentment. “This is a nice way to wake up,” he said quietly as Pierre pulled away slightly and hovered over him.

Their eyes locked and Pierre smiled at him. “I wanted to say thank you for last night.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Charles replied, his expression soft as he looked up at Pierre. He reached up a hand to stroke it through Pierre’s hair. “I’m glad you came here when you needed me.”

And that was it, wasn’t it? Pierre _needed_ Charles. Not so long ago, the realisation might have sent him into a panic, but he’d been wondering how he could put a name to his feelings about Charles for a while now. He knew that they were way beyond friends with benefits – well, he knew he was anyway. He wondered whether Charles had fallen as far as he had without even realising it.

“Charles…” he started but was cut off by the shrill ringing of Charles’ phone alarm. The sound cut straight through the peace of the moment as they’d been lying there looking at one another.

“Ah, fuck,” Charles grumbled as he reached over and grabbed his phone, silencing the alarm. He flopped back against his pillow with a frown on his face. “Sorry. I’ve got that stupid meeting today so I need to get up and hit the road.” 

“I’d forgotten you’d got an early start,” Pierre said apologetically as he rolled back to his own side of the bed. “I shouldn’t have come over last night and disturbed you.”

Charles immediately reached out and grabbed his arm, a serious look on his face. “Don’t be stupid,” he said. “I’m glad you came. You can always come here, you know that. I like having you here.”

Pierre smiled at him before he surged up and pressed a kiss against his lips. “Time for a shower?” he asked with a cheeky grin.

Laughing and rolling his eyes, Charles grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the bed and towards his bathroom.

***

Thankfully, Pierre’s next few shifts had gone smoothly, with no tragedies or loss of life. His watch mates had all been morose about what had happened at the house fire and in some ways that helped Pierre to feel better. He knew that his reaction was a completely normal human way to react to the events. They’d all talked about what had happened and by the end of the next shift they’d been feeling more like their usual selves. The banter between them all had started to flow again and the call outs they’d attended had been successful leaving them feeling more confident once again.

Pierre had finished up the second of his night shifts from that week and decided to head over to Charles’. He’d told him that he probably would and then text him as he left the fire station, even though Charles would be fast asleep, just to let him know he’d be coming over. After their little argument (could it even be called that?) the day after his birthday, Pierre had decided it was only fair to let Charles know if he was coming over or not.

Pierre still hadn’t got his head around what had actually happened that day. He didn’t understand where Charles’ sulky attitude, and the silent treatment he’d received all day, had come from. Charles had brushed it off that he was just tired and needed to release some pressure with a good fuck, but Pierre couldn’t help but think there was more to it. He’d started to wonder if Charles had known it was his birthday and was pissed off that he hadn’t been invited to the pub with his mates, but he hadn’t even mentioned his birthday to Charles (he didn’t want any fuss) so that couldn’t have been it. It had been so late by the time he’d left the pub that night and knowing that Charles had work the next day, he’d genuinely not wanted to disturb him, so he’d gone back his own apartment despite the fact that he would have really enjoyed an orgasm or two on his birthday. He’d resigned himself to never really understanding, and Charles had seemed to be completely back to normal as soon as Pierre had stripped him of his clothes that night, so he supposed it was better to just let it go. He certainly wasn’t going to be bringing it up again and sparking another argument. 

It was still early, but the city centre traffic was already picking up so Pierre was pleased when he finally made it to Charles’ apartment and let himself in. He kicked off his boots in the hallway as usual and was about to head straight to Charles’ bedroom when a sound from the kitchen stopped him. He wandered the other way and peered in to see Charles standing by the little dining table smiling a little dopily at him. He stepped into the room and realised that the table was covered in all sorts of breakfast food.

“What are you doing?” was all he could manage to say.

Charles’ grin widened. “Well, you said you’d be coming over after your shift, and you’ve had a tough week, and I know that you’re off now for four days, so I thought it’d be nice for us to have some breakfast together, well dinner for you, I suppose, before we head to bed.”

Pierre couldn’t help but think that Charles sounded a little nervous as he spoke quickly. 

“Before ‘we’ head to bed? Haven’t you just got up?” he asked in confusion.

“Well, I, um, I stayed up all night so we could do this and then spend the day in bed together,” he announced. And as Pierre looked at him he realised that Charles did look truly exhausted, like he’d been up all night.

Pierre stepped up to him and kissed him. “You really didn’t need to do all this, you know. And you must be tired if you’ve been up all night.”

“I know. But it’s Saturday today so no work for me and I thought it’d be nice to spend some time together, otherwise you’d just be asleep while I was bored on my own. And I wanted to anyway – I thought I’d do something nice for you.”

Pierre looked at him and shook his head slightly at how soft Charles could be at times. “It’s a lovely idea,” he told him. “Thank you.”

Charles’ slightly manic grin widened and Pierre knew that they wouldn’t have long before Charles was practically falling asleep in his croissant as he just wasn’t used to staying up all night, but the gesture was incredibly sweet and he planned to properly thank Charles later when they’d both caught up on some sleep. 

***

“I can’t believe you brought me here under false pretences,” Charles declared loudly.

The pub was particularly noisy seeing as it was quiz night and it was packed. Most of the teams were made up of members of various emergency services. They all seemed to converge on the pub that Pierre had first invited Charles to and it created a rather competitive atmosphere between each team for quiz night.

“Pierre said you knew loads of weird trivia, especially about fashion and music and shit, so we told him he had to bring you,” Dan told him as he clapped him firmly on the back. “And no pressure, but those dickheads from the hospital have wiped the floor with us for the last few weeks so we need your input,” he added, waving his hand at another group of men and women huddled together at a large booth. 

“I’m not even a fireman!” Charles declared.

“Doesn’t say anywhere in the rules that the team has to be made up of members of the emergency services. Come on, man – you can’t back out on us.”

Charles sighed and rolled his eyes as he looked back at Pierre. Pierre tried to hold back his smile at Charles’ pretend sulking. He knew that secretly Charles was relishing the chance to take part in the quiz and his inner geek was dying to let loose with some seriously weird general knowledge.

“You won’t get any help from me,” he told Charles. “I’m the one who brought you here in the first place!”

The quiz got going and Charles fitted into the team well. He’d managed to give them a couple of answers that had left the rest of them completely blank and earned himself a few celebratory slaps on the back from various members of Pierre’s watch.

At the halfway point in the quiz, Pierre had gone up to the bar to get a round in. A firm body had squeezed in at the crowded bar right behind him and he’d turned round, half-expecting Charles to be standing there smirking at him, but was instead met with the smiling face of his ex-boyfriend.

He hadn’t see Esteban in a social setting for quite a while. Their paths crossed because of work, what with Pierre attending incidents with the fire brigade and Esteban working as a paramedic, but Pierre had tried to avoid running into him, especially in the months after they’d first split up. They’d originally met because of their line of work, so it was no surprise that they’d continue to bump into one another, but they just hadn’t been out in the same places for some time. Not even the pub quiz had really given them cause to see one another, seeing as Pierre had cried off so many times: initially because he was still too heartbroken over Anthoine to want to socialise with anyone; then because he’d purposefully been avoiding Esteban; and more recently because he’d been spending time with Charles. 

His relationship with Esteban hadn’t ended horrendously, but it also hadn’t been the best time in Pierre’s life. Pierre knew he’d shut down emotionally after the death of his best friend and things between him and Esteban had become more and more strained as the weeks went on until they’d snapped altogether. Pierre didn’t know what he wanted from life anymore and Esteban hadn’t been able to help him work through it. They’d drifted further and further apart and then come to the conclusion that they just weren’t right for one another. Despite the building problems between them, it had ended with more of a whimper than a bang. 

Sometimes, during his lonely year before he’d met Charles, Pierre had wondered if he’d made a mistake. He’d wondered if they should have tried harder, but something deep inside had told him that it never would have worked out - that if they couldn’t make it through the tough times, they weren’t meant to be together - and he couldn’t look back just because he was tired of being on his own. He couldn’t help but wonder if Esteban ever felt the same. 

They’d seen each other since, they’d been perfectly civil with one another, but it was still a little awkward to suddenly be pressed together at the bar like they were. As Pierre blinked at Esteban in surprise, he wondered if he’d done it on purpose. He must have known who it was he was squeezing alongside at the bar. 

Seemingly unperturbed by any awkwardness, Esteban immediately struck up a conversation, and Pierre found that he couldn’t help but start talking to him. Before things had fallen apart, they’d been happy, and Esteban had always been so friendly and approachable when they’d been together. No matter what else had happened between them, there would always be a small place for him in Pierre’s heart.

As he laughed at something that Esteban had just said, Pierre’s eyes flicked over to his table to see Charles staring back at him with his jaw clenched. The spark of giddiness about the quiz had disappeared, replaced with something that Pierre had never seen on his face before. When he realised that Pierre had caught him staring, Charles tore his gaze away and focused on draining his pint. Pierre watched as Dan leant over and started talking to Charles, both of them occasionally glancing up at the bar, and Pierre wondered what trouble Dan and his big mouth were causing. 

Eventually, Pierre wrapped up his conversation with Esteban and headed back to the table with the drinks. He slipped back into his seat next to Charles and nudged him as he passed him his pint.

“Alright?” he asked when Charles refused to meet his eyes.

“Fine,” Charles replied bluntly.

Pierre was about to challenge him on it, but Charles pushed himself up from his seat abruptly, muttering something about going to the toilet. It took all of ten seconds for Pierre to stand up and follow him, ignoring the whistles and catcalls from his mates.

Charles was standing washing his hands, trying to make himself look busy, when Pierre walked in.

“What’s up?” he asked immediately.

Charles just looked at him and shrugged slightly. “Nothing,” he replied with a little shake of his head.

“Bullshit,” Pierre declared. “You were fine one minute and then as soon as you saw me talking to Esteban you got a face like thunder.”

“Esteban,” Charles said the name to himself. “He’s a friend of yours?”

Pierre sighed. He wasn’t going to lie - he had nothing to hide - and he was pretty sure that Dan had already filled Charles in. “Yeah, he’s my ex. He’s a paramedic. And I’m guessing Dan has already opened his big mouth and told you all about it.”

Charles shrugged again. “He just said that you two had grown apart. Made some comment about unfinished business.” He sniffed at that and walked over to the paper towel dispenser to dry his hands, avoiding Pierre’s eyes as he went. 

“Dan’s full of bullshit. He knows nothing,” Pierre said, half amused at Charles’ blatant jealousy, and half bewildered by it. 

Charles’ jaw clenched as he nodded. “So you see him around a lot then?” he asked.

“Every once and a while if we’re attending the same scene.” Pierre wondered how Charles would react to him calling him out on his jealousy. He decided it might be better to just reassure him instead. “I’ve not seen him outside of work for a long time so we were just catching up. He’s actually got a new boyfriend – he’s here with him tonight so I can introduce you to them if you like.”

“Jesus, no!” Charles exclaimed, his face flushing a little.

He seemed to relax a little after that, his shoulders losing some of their tension at Pierre’s reassurance. It was quite amusing for Pierre to watch but he thought it best not to mention. 

“Come on, grumpy,” he said as he grabbed Charles’ hand, laughing at the look on his face. “As much as I love hanging around in pub toilets, we’ve got a quiz to win.”

***

When they got back to Pierre’s apartment, Charles pounced on him immediately, pressing him up against the wall of his hallway as soon as they’d kicked their shoes off. He pushed his body against Pierre’s, grabbing his wrists and pinning them to the wall as he kissed him deeply. His tongue licked into Pierre’s mouth as he slotted his thigh between his legs and rolled his hips causing Pierre to moan at the friction.

It had been written all over Charles’ face and obvious in his body language at the pub after Pierre’s chat with Esteban that Charles was going to need to relieve some of the stress his ‘not-jealousy’ had caused, and Pierre had been looking forward to it immensely. He was quite happy to go along with whatever Charles had in mind in his attempt to remind Pierre that he didn’t need to be looking anywhere else for sex.

He thrust his hips forward to meet Charles’ movement, groaning low in his throat again.

“God, you drive me crazy,” Charles all but growled against his ear. He kissed his way to Pierre’s neck and sucked on the skin there, knowing the effect it would have on him. Pierre turned his head, stretching his neck and leaving more skin for Charles to attack, shivers running through his body at the feeling of Charles’ tongue and teeth on his sensitive flesh.

It didn’t take long for Charles to manoeuvre them into the bedroom. Sometimes Pierre wondered how he was so good at multi-tasking, but he’d managed to walk them to the bedroom and strip them of most of their clothes by the time they got there, all while kissing Pierre as they moved. He pressed Pierre down against the bed and continued kissing him as he ran his hand down his chest to his crotch and palmed at his erection through his boxers. Pierre gasped, pulling his lips away from Charles’ and arching his hips towards his touch.

“Are you gonna fuck me?” Pierre panted as Charles slipped his hand inside his underwear. God, he really wanted Charles to fuck him tonight.

“You want me to?” Charles asked, but it was a pointless question because they both knew the answer.

Pulling Charles closer with a hand behind his head, Pierre whispered against his lips, “God, yes.”

Charles thrust his tongue into his mouth for another searing kiss before he sat back on his ankles. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of Pierre’s boxers and pulled them down with a little wriggling from Pierre. Then his eyes traced the length of Pierre’s body slowly. “On your knees,” he decided and Pierre immediately obliged, moving onto all fours and arching his back.

“Fucking hell, Pierre.” 

He heard Charles’ exclamation and smirked to himself. God, he loved this. He heard Charles opening the bedside drawer and then the click of a lid. Charles stroked a hand over his arse cheek reverently before making Pierre jump by leaning down and nipping at the soft flesh that he’d just been stroking. Then Charles slowly pushed a finger into him and Pierre arched into the touch. He rocked back against it and Charles added a second and a third finger as Pierre moaned and pleaded for more.

Pierre was already sweating from the sensation of rocking backwards and forwards, the warmth of Charles’ body pressing against him, and the brush of Charles’ fingers against his prostate. “ _Charles_...I’m ready,  _ please _ ,” he panted. He didn’t even care if he sounded desperate; he was. He wanted Charles inside him and he wasn’t ashamed to beg.

Charles pulled his fingers away and Pierre could hear him ripping open a condom and a low groan as he rolled it on. Then one of Charles’ hands settled on his hip as he pressed his cock against Pierre’s hole. He pushed forward and Pierre gasped a tiny breath. It didn’t matter how many times they did this, the feeling of being so completely filled still stole his breath away. Charles eased inside, as aware as ever of not rushing things. When he’d bottomed out, he stilled and allowed Pierre chance to adjust to the feeling. He stroked his hands across Pierre’s back, across his hips and then settled his hands there.

Pierre rocked back against him and that was all the signal that Charles needed.

Charles clearly wasn’t in the mood for slow as he set a fast pace, pulling out of Pierre nearly completely before slamming back into him over and over. Pierre had one hand gripping the headboard and the other twisted in his duvet as Charles drove into him. They were both moaning and swearing as Charles moved inside him.

Then he suddenly slowed. Pierre was about to ask him what he was playing at when Charles’ arms slipped around his chest and he started pulling him upright. “Up,” he commanded. “Come on.”

Pierre allowed himself to be pulled up to his knees, his back pressed against Charles’ chest, feeling his cock shifting inside him as he moved. The change in angle made him feel like Charles was somehow, impossibly deeper inside him. “Oh,  fuck ,” he moaned out as Charles started to thrust into him in their new position. Charles reached around and wrapped his hand around Pierre’s dick, stroking it firmly as he thrust his hips quickly, his other arm wrapped around Pierre’s chest, his fingertips teasing across his nipple. Pierre reached up behind him and threaded the fingers of one hand into the hair at the base of Charles’ skull, dragging him closer as he writhed in pleasure. 

“You have no idea what you do to me,” Charles whispered against his ear. 

Pierre thought he had a pretty good idea seeing as Charles had the exact same effect on him. He could feel himself chasing his orgasm. He wanted the release, to feel that pleasure, but he didn’t want this to end.

Charles moved his arm across his chest, his fingers reaching up to stroke at Pierre’s neck, pushing his head back and to the side slightly and then he clamped his lips onto the skin where Pierre’s neck met his shoulder and sucked.

The combination of sensations was too much. Pierre’s orgasm ripped through him, his come spraying up his own chest and onto the sheets as he yelled out Charles’ name.

Charles tore his lips away from his neck and Pierre could hear him and feel him panting against the damp skin he’d left behind. He continued to pound into Pierre, still holding him upright with his strong arms, until his own climax hit and he shuddered through it as he filled the condom, thrusting weakly into Pierre a few more times.

Pierre collapsed against his bed in a sweaty heap, half-expecting Charles to land on top of him at any moment, but as he turned his head to the side he saw Charles disappearing into the bathroom to dispose of the condom. Within moments he was back at the bed, climbing in beside Pierre and flopping back against the pillows, handing him a flannel to clean himself up a bit.

“You should come to quiz night more often if that’s how you react to winning stuff,” Pierre remarked as he turned his head to look at Charles’ sweaty face. He had a feeling that the real reason for Charles being so worked up was actually his encounter with Esteban, but he wasn’t planning on bringing that up and ruining the blissed out mood.

Charles hummed in agreement before he rolled sideways to be closer to Pierre. “I might just do that,” he said, as he draped his arm across Pierre’s chest.

Charles’ eyes started to grow heavy as he settled against the pillow and Pierre couldn’t stop looking at him as he started to drift off. He wanted to count the freckles scattered across Charles’ face and memorise the patterns they made. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t fight off his own weariness for long and he too slipped into sleep, feeling more content than he could ever remember being before. 


	7. 7

Pierre was an absolute pain in the arse. That’s what Charles kept muttering to himself as he parked his car along the street from the fire station. If he wasn’t so happy to just throw his stuff all over the damn apartment, he wouldn’t forget important stuff like his phone.

It was all rather domestic but Charles liked his apartment to be tidy, and Pierre seemed to have no such concerns as, whenever he came over, he always ended up chucking his belongings all over the place. And now, because he was such an untidy, disorganised mess, he’d gone and left his phone on the floor in Charles’ bedroom and Charles had had to deliver it to the station on his lunch break in case Pierre needed it.

He felt like telling Pierre that he wasn’t his personal maid, tidying up after him, but then he knew he’d probably just get some cheeky comment about dressing up as one as part of some kinky game and it really wasn’t worth giving Pierre any ideas.

As he wandered up to the fire station, he could see that the large shutter doors were rolled up and the two fire engines were both absent. Typical: he’d come all this way to find that Pierre wasn’t even here and he’d have to leave the phone with their admin officer without even getting chance to see Pierre in his uniform. Because despite trying to tell himself that Pierre was a pain who’d given him an extra job to squeeze into his already busy day, in reality, Charles was never going to pass up the opportunity to come here and perv on Pierre at work. In fact, the phone had given him the perfect excuse to be here so Pierre’s untidiness had its benefits after all. Shame he wasn’t going to get chance to see him.

Feeling a little disheartened, he walked up the driveway towards the fire station and was about to pass through the doors when he heard the sound of a large diesel engine rumbling down the street and turned to see the two fire engines pulling onto the forecourt. His heart actually seemed to skip a beat at the sight and he tried hard not to let his smile grow too wide.

Within seconds of pulling up, the crew were piling out, laughing and joking and shoving each other around despite all looking sweaty and covered in dust. And then Pierre jumped down from the engine and Charles was pretty sure his mouth had dropped open like some cartoon character. Because Pierre looked like he was starring in the  Diet Coke advert.

All coherent thoughts disappeared from his brain as he watched Pierre climb down the first step and then jump the rest of the way onto the concrete. It was like everything slowed down as Charles lost himself in the moment. His eyes trailed up Pierre’s body, taking in the fire kit he was wearing, from the sturdy boots, up the heavy trousers he had to wear to protect him from the flames, to the tight navy t-shirt he had tucked into his trousers. Fortunately, he’d removed the large, bulky overcoat he had to wear when he attended a fire, but the thick, red braces he wore to hold up his trousers were still in place over his shoulders. His hair was a little wild, obviously messy from wearing his helmet and breathing apparatus, and he was deliciously sweaty, with a smudge of ash across his cheek. If Charles didn’t know any better, he’d think Pierre had planned this moment down to the last, perfect detail, because Charles was staring at a real-life version of every fireman fantasy he’d ever entertained.

“Oi, oi!” A shout went up from the crew and Charles was startled from his daydreaming. “The quiz-master’s here!” Charles was thumped on the back several times by the enthusiastic members of Pierre’s watch as they passed him on the way to remove their gear. He’d become quite popular with Pierre’s friends after quiz night and they’d apparently all been insisting that he attended the quiz every week from now on.

He grinned at them as they greeted him and then turned his eyes back to Pierre. He watched as Dan whispered something in Pierre’s ear, something cheeky by the look on Pierre’s face and the wink Dan gave him, before he shoved his friend playfully away from him. Dan was laughing, that bright bubbly laugh that seemed to be his trademark, as he approached Charles. 

“Alright, Charlie,” he greeted him happily. “Nice to see you, mate. Just popped over to say hi, have we? Don’t keep him too long – I can only keep the boss off his case for so long, you know.” 

He winked at Charles this time, before sauntering off inside the building, whistling loudly as he went.

Pierre wandered over to him and rolled his eyes at Dan’s words. “Ignore him,” he said with a chuckle. “You alright?”

Charles was still trying to get his brain working again after he was pretty sure it had short-circuited when Pierre first appeared from the fire engine. 

“Phone,” he blurted out.

“What?” Pierre asked him with a look of concern.

“Sorry.” Charles could feel himself flushing. Jesus, why was he so hot standing outside at this time of year? He actually pulled at the collar of his coat in an attempt to loosen it a little. “You left your phone at mine this morning and I thought you might need it.” 

He pulled Pierre’s phone from his pocket and held it out to him.

Pierre reached out and their fingers brushed as he took the phone from Charles. Charles licked his lips.

“Thanks,” Pierre said as he glanced up at Charles’ face. He still looked a bit baffled by Charles’ odd behaviour. 

“Your hair’s a bit...messy,” Charles said and then he wondered why he’d felt the need to point it out. He’d seen Pierre’s hair in a state before seeing as their activities often caused the disheveled look. 

Pierre actually ran his fingers through his hair, looking a little bashful, trying to smooth it down. “Yeah, it usually looks like this after we’ve been on a call-out. The heat from the fire and all the gear we wear doesn’t exactly help. Don’t know why I bother styling it for work really.”

Charles had to force himself not to tackle Pierre to the ground there and then. Instead, he lunged forward and grabbed Pierre’s wrist. 

“Can I have a word?” he said gruffly, before he dragged Pierre around the side of the fire station building.

When they got far enough down the side of the building so they were out of view of the street, Charles turned to Pierre and pushed him up against the wall.

“Charles…wha-“

Pierre was cut off as Charles pressed their lips together desperately. When Charles pulled away, he immediately set about pulling Pierre’s braces down his arms and unfastening his trousers.

“What are you doing?” Pierre asked, a bit of disbelief and bewilderment mixed in with the fact that he clearly knew what was about to happen and was very pleased about it.

“You can’t just turn up looking all…like  _ that _ ,” Charles growled as he tore at the fastenings on Pierre’s trousers, “and expect me to just wait until you get off shift later.”

Pierre laughed at his words. “It’s not my fault. I didn’t even know you’d be here. Not that I’m complaining,” he chuckled. 

His laughter quickly faded as Charles shoved his trousers down his thighs, quickly followed by his boxers, before he wrapped a fist around Pierre’s cock and stroked up and down his hard length firmly. 

“Fucking hell, Charles,” he groaned as he watched Charles biting his lip as he looked down at Pierre’s dick as he slid his hand over it.

Charles pumped his hand up and down a few more times before his eyes locked with Pierre’s. He licked his lips again and smirked at the way Pierre’s eyes followed the movement of his tongue. Then he sunk down to his knees in front of Pierre. He didn’t tease him; he didn’t have time or the inclination at that moment. Instead, he wrapped his lips around the tip of Pierre’s dick and then swallowed him down.

“ _ Jesus _ ,” Pierre breathed as he tipped his head back against the wall.

Charles bobbed his head up and down, swallowing as much of Pierre’s length as he could, his hand alternating between moving over the root of his dick and teasing at his balls. His other hand had managed to undo his own trousers without him having to look down and he was stroking his own, almost painfully hard, cock as he desperately chased his own pleasure.

Glancing up, he realised that Pierre was now watching him, his mouth open as he panted. His fingers smoothed across Charles’ cheek and then he slipped his hand behind Charles’ head, stroking through the hair at the back of his head. Charles hummed lowly and Pierre momentarily closed his eyes. His hips had started to buck slightly as Charles sucked at him and suddenly the fingers in Charles’ hair tightened.

“Charles... _ Charles _ , I’m gonna come,” he warned.

Charles didn’t stop his movement. He wanted to taste everything Pierre was going to give him.

Pierre shuddered. He held his fist up against his mouth to muffle his groans as he came. And still Charles didn’t release him. He swallowed around Pierre’s cock as his come hit the back of his throat. Only when Pierre had collapsed back against the wall did Charles allow his cock to fall from between his lips.

Standing up, briefly brushing the gravel from his trousers, he pressed his lips against Pierre’s and licked into his mouth again. He wrapped his hand around his own cock again and pumped his hand quickly up and down. Pressed up against Pierre, he spilled all over his hand, trying not to cry out too loudly as he buried his face in his shoulder. He slumped against Pierre as he tried to catch his breath and slow his heart rate.

“That was definitely an improvement on my normal routine when we get back from a call-out,” Pierre laughed as he pressed a quick kiss to the side of Charles’ head. 

“Not exactly what I’d planned when I turned up, but definitely one of my better ideas,” Charles agreed as he stepped back to straighten his clothes and tuck himself away.

“Oh, what the  hell ?” Pierre exclaimed as he looked down. “You jizzed on my fucking trousers!”

Charles couldn’t help it; he burst out laughing at the scandalised look on Pierre’s face. 

“Sorry,” he tried to say through his laughing, but he guessed his apology didn’t seem all that genuine. “It’ll come off,” he added with another laugh.

“Oh, ha-fucking-ha,” Pierre scowled, but he couldn’t hide the amused look on his face. “I’ve gotta walk back in there with a fucking come stain on my trousers.”

Charles was still laughing. He just couldn’t seem to stop. “I don’t think any of them were unaware of what was going on, do you? It’s your own fault for looking like that.” Charles motioned up and down the length of Pierre’s body with his hand and smirked at him again. 

Pierre looked less than impressed, but he just shook his head and rolled his eyes. Charles was pretty sure he couldn’t really complain too much seeing as he’d just been sucked off while he was at work. 

“I’ll make it up to you later,” Charles said with a wink. “And now I really better get going before we both get sacked.” He pressed a quick kiss against his lips and walked back down the side of the building. He grinned over his shoulder at Pierre and offered him a wave before he headed back to his car, a spring in his step as he went.

***

“So, his ex-boyfriend just happened to be there?” Alex asked as they made their way into the lift in Charles’ apartment building.

Charles hadn’t been the one to bring it up - his friends seemed to be fascinated by his life - but the four of them had been discussing Charles and Pierre since they’d been at the supermarket, so Charles had decided to use the opportunity to ask George, Alex and Lando for their opinion about Esteban’s sudden appearance, without being too obvious about his own thoughts on the matter. 

“Apparently, he’s a paramedic, so he was there with his workmates doing the quiz. Oh, and his new boyfriend was there too. But that didn’t explain why he was cosying up with Pierre at the bar. It was pretty obvious that he’d gone up to Pierre on purpose,” Charles said as the lift arrived and they stepped into it. They’d normally have walked the few floors up to Charles’ apartment, but they were laden down with the shopping bags as Charles had promised to cook tea for his friends, so the lift was the easier option.

Pierre wasn’t coming over that evening. He was having an X-box and pizza night at Dan’s after their shift and that left Charles with a free evening to spend with his friends. He was actually looking forward to it. Of course, he’d have been happy to have Pierre coming over, but he hadn’t had much chance to see his mates lately and they needed a catch-up. Besides, he’d promised them a meal as a small thank you for letting him crash at their place while his apartment was being repaired after the fire.

“And he just came up to Pierre out of the blue?” Lando asked, pulling a face in disbelief.

“Well, no…Pierre said they still bump into each other sometimes when they’re on the same jobs. So I guess they’ve chatted or whatever when they’ve seen each other,” Charles said. 

He’d started telling them about the night of the quiz because he’d been driving himself a bit crazy wondering if he should be worried about Esteban’s sudden reappearance, and he really needed someone to talk to about it and share his concerns. Not that he really wanted to even admit to himself that he had any  concerns : he just wondered what their take on it would be. 

“Oh,” Lando said simply, like what he’d told them made everything make sense. “So you really have nothing to worry about. They’re obviously just mates.”

“If that,” George added. “Sounds like they’ve not had much to do with one another since they split it. Probably more acquaintances than friends.”

“Either way,” Lando continued, “If they see each other around all the time and then this Esteban bloke came over to him, with his new boyfriend sitting right there, I don’t think you’ve got anything to be jealous about.”

The lift pinged as they arrived at Charles’ floor, and the doors slid open.

“ _ Jealous _ ?” he spluttered. “I’m not  jealous !”

“Okay, Charles. Whatever you say.” Alex rolled his eyes as he spoke. 

Charles glanced at his friends and saw them all exchanging weird looks. 

“So, when do we get to meet Pierre?” Lando asked. 

Charles gave him a disbelieving look with a raised eyebrow. “Um, never,” he said simply. “And why do you want to meet him anyway?”

“Well, you talk about him all the time so it’d be kinda nice to actually put a face to the name. And obviously we’d like to meet one of our closest friend’s boyfriends at some point,” Lando told him as they all made their way down the hallway to Charles’ apartment.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Charles replied. His friends’ assumptions and runaway ideas about what they were to one another were making his heart jolt and something flutter in his stomach. It wasn’t an entirely terrible feeling. 

They stood outside Charles’ front door as he put his shopping bags down to root around in his pocket for his keys.

Lando blew out an unimpressed puff of air. “Pfft. That’s only because you won’t  say that’s what he is.”

“You know me,” Charles said as he unlocked the door. “I don’t do all that serious stuff with feelings and shit.”

“Even with Pierre?” George asked with a knowing smile on his face as he passed him and entered the apartment as Charles held the door open for them all to enter.

“ _Especially_ with Pierre,” Charles replied as he followed his friends into the apartment. “He’s just my mate,” he said as he pushed the door closed with his foot and made his way through to the kitchen, dropping the heavy bags onto the worktop.

Glancing to the side, he saw Lando watching him with a strange look on his face. He was staring at him intently, looking confused and almost sad. “Charles…” he said, and his voice was quiet, almost gentle, “what are you going on about?”

Charles turned away and tried to avoid eye contact as he set about unpacking the bags. His friend was getting too close to a truth that Charles wasn’t sure he was ready to admit to himself, let alone anyone else. He could feel Lando’s eyes on him as he plonked each item onto the counter, but he steadfastly refused to look up until he felt his hand gently rest on his arm, stilling his movements.

“Charles, I can tell there’s more to this than you’re letting on. We can all see that you’re falling for him.”

Looking up at him sharply, he felt his eyes widen and he shook his head slightly. He looked across to George and Alex who both had the same expression as Lando on their faces. They looked like they felt sorry for him, or maybe thought he was an idiot. 

He shook his head again, but it was a pointless denial. They could see right through him and it scared him. Because if  _ they _ could see the truth, maybe Pierre could too, and maybe he was going to run a mile to get away from Charles and his ‘ feelings’ .

“Do you realise how stupid it would be?” he said as he paced across the kitchen in agitation. “How stupid it is for me to want to be with Pierre? After my dad and Jules...I’m terrified of losing someone else; I don’t think I could handle it. So how can I be with Pierre? I don’t want to risk losing anyone else but I want to be with someone who does a dangerous job like that? Someone who runs into fires for a living? Someone who could be killed in the line of duty? It’s ridiculous. It’ll never work.”

“It’s been working so far though, hasn’t it?” Lando asked as he approached him. He guided him to one of the chairs at his little dining table and forced him to sit down.

Sighing deeply, he ran a hand over his face.

“Does he know about your dad and what happened to Jules?” George asked him gently.

Charles shook his head. “No. I’ve never told him about them. I didn’t want to freak him out, or make him think I was oversharing and taking things too seriously.”

“You’re an idiot - you know that, right?” Lando told him. “You should talk to him. You need to tell him about what’s happened and why you’ve been struggling with it and why you feel like it’s been holding you back. He’d understand. From what you’ve told me, he sounds like a really good bloke and he deserves to know the truth. It might even help you to talk about it with him.”

Charles was quiet for a long time as he thought over what his friend had said. Maybe Lando was right. There was nothing that had ever made Charles think that Pierre would react badly to finding out about the losses that had scarred him so badly. If anything, he knew that Pierre would be understanding and sympathetic and try his best to make him feel better somehow. And, after all, Pierre had shared his own pain about the tragic death of his friend. He’d sought Charles out when he needed him and told him about his heartbreak. So why couldn’t Charles do the same? Pierre would be supportive: he knew he would. 

But that wasn’t the issue.

He was terrified of sharing that most painful of things with him, pouring his heart out to Pierre, telling him that that was why he was keeping him at arm’s length to avoid getting hurt again, only for Pierre to look at him in surprise and ask him why he was even worried about it when that wasn’t what they were about anyway. 

What if Pierre didn’t see Charles as anything more than a mate that he slept with? And then Charles would end up getting hurt anyway because he had to start admitting to himself that he wanted more from Pierre than just friends with benefits. He wanted more. He wanted  _ everything _ . But he was so scared.

“If I tell him about what’s happened...about how I’m scared about losing someone else…and I tell him that I want to work through that and get past it and make our relationship something more serious because…because I really like him…What if he doesn’t want that? What if I ruin everything and he runs away from me and I lose him?” he eventually asked quietly. 

It was so hard to get all of this out and he could only imagine how much harder he’d find it to say it to Pierre.

Lando blew out a long breath. “If you keep going on as you are, you’re going to lose him eventually anyway,” he said. “If you take the risk and tell him how you feel about him, at least you’ll know one way or another how  he feels about  you . And from what you’ve told me, it sounds like he likes you a lot too, you know. But if you keep pretending it’s nothing serious, eventually someone will come along that _can_ admit that they want to have a serious relationship with him and, if he thinks you’re only with him for sex, he’s going to take that offer and you’ll be left broken-hearted because you left it too late to actually tell him how you feel. Do you really want to take that chance?”

Charles looked at him a little wide-eyed. The thought of Pierre meeting someone else and disappearing from his life was too awful to consider. His friend was talking a lot of sense.

“When did you get so wise?” he asked with a small smile on his face.

Lando laughed loudly. 

“I spent long enough watching these two muppets pine after one another,” he said as he waved his hand between George and Alex, who both immediately started to protest that they hadn’t been pining and Lando needed to shut up. 

Lando grinned at Charles. “I picked up a few things while I was tearing my hair out being stuck living with them and their heart eyes. I think I’d make an excellent agony aunt.”

Charles couldn’t help but laugh at George and Alex’s fake indignation, and then he smiled at how they turned to one another and their faces softened, silently communicating that maybe they had been pining all along, but none of that mattered because they’d finally stopped dancing around one another and figured it all out. They’d taken the risk. They were truly happy. And Charles wanted what they’d got. He wanted it with Pierre. 

“So does this mean you’re going to take my advice and actually talk to Pierre about how you feel?” Lando asked, interrupting his thoughts. 

The smile on Charles’ face widened. The thought of it made him incredibly nervous and his heart started pounding just at the idea, but he knew what he had to do. It was time to stop being such a coward about how he felt. “Yeah,” he breathed out. “I think I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Diet Coke man was a thing from a better time...if you’re not sure about the reference, have a google!


	8. 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the amazing feedback on this fic. We’re nearing the end now...just two chapters to go.

“I’m sorry, mate,” Dan said for what was possibly the hundredth time that evening. “I really thought he liked you.”

“Yeah, well, we were both wrong then, weren’t we?” Pierre replied as he huffed out a bitter laugh in response.

He’d been round at Dan’s since lunch because he’d just needed to talk to someone about how everything had gone so incredibly wrong. Dan had been doing his best to cheer him up, but so far he’d been unsuccessful. Even his ever-positive outlook and his infectious laughter couldn’t heal Pierre’s heartache. 

The day before, Pierre had gone over to Dan’s for a long overdue evening of eating takeaway, playing on the X-box, and just generally messing about and winding each other up. They’d finished their four-day shift rotation and were looking forward to four days of no work, so on their first free evening they’d arranged to finally get together for their lads’ night.

They’d only been staring at the screen for a short while when Dan had launched into winding Pierre up about how they never got to do this anymore because Pierre was so loved up with Charles that they spent every free moment together. The comments had left Pierre spluttering in denial and arguing that that wasn’t the case, but Dan hadn’t relented.

At first, it had seemed like some harmless ribbing, but suddenly Dan’s face had grown serious and he’d asked Pierre what was actually going on between him and Charles; how  serious was it; wasn’t it time they talked about what their relationship actually  meant to them both? And Pierre hadn’t known how to respond to those sorts of questions. Maybe because he couldn’t bring himself to pretend anymore. Maybe because he was starting to realise that Charles meant a lot more to him than he’d been willing to admit so far.

When he’d confided that to his friend, albeit rather haltingly and struggling with how to put it into words, Dan had immediately told him that he needed to tell Charles how he felt. And even though Pierre was unsure about it, and scared of what Charles might say, or that he might get rejected, he couldn’t help but smile at the thought that if he spoke to Charles, the other man might just share the same feelings.

Dan had been absolutely sure that Charles felt the same. 

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you, mate,” he’d said with a beaming smile on his face. “He’s got it bad. That night at the quiz just confirmed it.”

In fact, his friend was so determined that he talk to Charles about his feelings, that he’d cancelled X-box night there and then, and practically shooed Pierre out of the door so he could go straight over to Charles’ place and talk to him. 

Pierre had been shaking his head in bewilderment at Dan’s sudden penchant for match-making, whilst smiling softly to himself at the prospect of actually telling Charles how he felt and hopefully hearing the words repeated back to him.

He'd raced over to Charles’ apartment and instead of waiting for the lift, because he was far too wound up for that, he’d taken the stairs up to Charles’ floor. 

When he’d stepped through the doors from the stairwell, he’d heard Charles’ voice as he spoke to whoever it was he was with. For a heart-stopping moment, Pierre thought that maybe Charles had met someone and brought them back to his apartment, but then wanted to kick himself for being so stupid when he’d peered round the corner and seen Charles, laden down with grocery bags, chatting to a group of young men that Pierre recognised from the photos in Charles’ apartment. They were Charles’ closest friends: Lando, George and Alex.

He’d contemplated walking right up to them and introducing himself, just so he could enjoy Charles squirming, but then he’d heard his own name mentioned and paused. He’d known he shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but the temptation was too great. 

When Lando had said the words, ‘ our closest friend’s boyfriend’ , Pierre’s heart had jolted in his chest and he’d smiled widely to himself, only to have the feeling dashed away almost as quickly as it had arrived, by Charles’ immediate denial that that’s what they were.

For a moment, Pierre hadn’t heard any further words as he tried to shake the disappointment he felt and reason away Charles’ words, but then he’d tuned back in to what was being said. If he’d thought it was bad to hear Charles saying he wasn’t his boyfriend, it was so much worse when Charles answered his friends’ questions by saying he didn’t do feelings ‘ _especially_ with Pierre’ , like there was something particularly bad about having feelings for _him_. And then, the final blow had come: ‘ he’s just my mate’.  Pierre had actually shaken his head and staggered back a little at the words, feeling like someone had punched him in the gut. The door of Charles’ apartment had closed with a thump and Pierre had been left standing in the hallway feeling like a fool.

Somehow, he’d made it back to his own apartment. He couldn’t remember much of the journey, but just knew he was incredibly grateful when he’d shut the door behind him. He’d made himself a cup of tea and then sat on his sofa wondering where he’d gone wrong.

It had taken him so long to finally accept that he cared about Charles as so much more than a friend who he slept with and, as soon as he’d allowed himself to feel anything more, it had all gone to shit and he’d been left feeling like Charles had stomped all over his heart. 

From the moment they’d met, they’d known what they were to one another. They were friends who fucked – that was all. He couldn’t believe he’d allowed himself to lose sight of that. How had he allowed himself to fall for someone who clearly wasn’t interested in anything more than fucking? How could he have got it so wrong?

Had he imagined all of those nights when Charles had held him in his arms with such care? Had he misinterpreted the times when Charles had looked at him so fondly? What about all of the genuinely sweet things that Charles had done for him? The staying up all night just so they could have breakfast after his shift? The gentle way he’d been there for him after the call out that had ended so badly and when he’d told him about Anthoine?

How could he have been so stupid?

He’d cursed himself as he felt his anger growing. He hadn’t even been sure who he was angrier with: Charles or himself. 

It wasn’t Charles’ fault that Pierre had got the wrong idea and allowed himself to fall far too hard for him. But it  was Charles’ fault that he’d so successfully led Pierre on. He was obviously a good actor if he’d faked all of the times when he’d looked like he was falling for Pierre just as hard. Maybe that was his way of keeping Pierre around. Maybe Charles enjoyed the sex they had so much that he didn’t want to give up having Pierre practically on call anytime he wanted an orgasm.

By the time Pierre had finished stewing on everything, and picking apart every moment looking for an ulterior motive, he was practically vibrating with pent up anger and hurt. _Charles_ had hurt him, but he wasn’t about to let the other man see that. If Charles wanted to continue their ‘relationship’ (he’d scoffed at the word as he’d heard it in his head), he’d have to start playing by Pierre’s rules from now on.

“So I guess you’re not going to be seeing him anymore then,” Dan stated as he frowned at his friend.

Pierre gave him a disbelieving look. “Why wouldn’t I?” he asked snappily. “If he just wants to do the sex thing, that’s fine by me.”

Dan’s eyes widened in shock. “Mate...don’t you think that’s going to be pretty tough on you? You don’t have to keep seeing him, you know. Wouldn’t it be better to just end it now and go your separate ways? Forget about him?”

The thought of ‘forgetting’ about Charles actually made Pierre’s stomach flip uncomfortably, but he wasn’t going to admit that. He had to deal with this.

“Why would I deny myself a great fuck?” he asked, trying to sound flippant, trying to sound like that was all that mattered to him. “I’ll keep seeing him – for now. Someone else will come along eventually and then we’ll call it quits. But I might as well keep seeing him. I don’t want to cut my nose off to spite my face, do I?” 

He tried for a laugh, but his friend just frowned at him again. Clearly, Dan knew him too well.

“You don’t have to prove anything, you know?” Dan said kindly. “If it’s going to hurt you to spend time with him…”

“It’s not,” Pierre snapped again. He quickly pushed the anger and pain away, forcing a smile onto his face. “It’ll be fine. It’s only temporary anyway. And besides, maybe I’ll have some fun if I make him work for it.”

Dan still didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t argue any further and Pierre was glad. Making himself believe it was hard enough, without having to convince his friend too.

***

“Oh,  _ God _ ! Yes, _Pierre_. Ah!” 

Charles’ shouts rose above the sound of skin slapping against skin as Pierre thrust into him from behind. Charles started to shudder and Pierre knew he was going to come. He continued to slam into Charles, wanting his own release as desperately as he always did, and it didn’t take long before the clenching of Charles’ muscles around him brought him to his own orgasm.

They both collapsed against Charles’ mattress, covered in sweat and panting heavily.

“Well, that was an unexpected, but extremely satisfying, start to the evening,” Charles said once he’d caught his breath.

Pierre had shown up at Charles’ apartment not long after he’d got home from work. Seeing as he was off shift for a few days, that obviously hadn’t been that much of a surprise to Charles, but he had been completely caught off guard when Pierre had grabbed hold of him, steered him into his bedroom, and proceeded to fuck him into the mattress.

Charles rolled onto his side and smiled at Pierre dopily. Pierre felt himself smiling back, but he suddenly remembered that he wasn’t here for that anymore. He couldn’t let himself get any deeper into this than he already was.

Just as Charles reached out for him, Pierre moved off the bed and stood up. He started looking around for his underwear, which had been thrown somewhere along with the rest of his clothes as he’d stripped off.

“I thought I’d make bolognaise for tea,” Charles said from the bed.

Pierre didn’t look up at him as he pulled his boxers on. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was all too domestic. If he and Charles were just ‘mates’ then they shouldn’t be cooking meals together, fitting into a little routine as they worked alongside one another in the kitchen.

“Not tonight,” he grunted, before he grabbed his jeans off the floor.

“Oh, okay,” Charles replied. “D’you fancy a takeaway then?”

Keeping his eyes focused on his clothes or the floor as he got dressed, Pierre shook his head. “I’m heading to the pub to meet the lads.”

“Oh,” Charles said simply and Pierre finally chanced a look in his direction. 

Charles was sitting up in bed, the sheets pooled around his waist as he looked at Pierre with a slightly confused (and was that hurt?) expression on his face. 

“Are you coming back later, then?” he asked when they made eye contact. He sounded a little unsure of himself. 

Drawing in a deep breath, Pierre forced himself to stick to the plan. He needed to be strong and not let Charles think he was some pining, love-struck loser who was just going to hang around for any attention he could get from the other man. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but think how cruel he was being and how bad it looked – he’d basically turned up for a fuck and was walking out like Charles was nothing more than a one-night stand. _No_ , he needed to stop second guessing himself. This was what Charles wanted. He’d said so, hadn’t he?

“No,” he said with a shrug, trying to come off as casual. “Dunno what time we’ll get finished up at the pub and I fancy a lie-in tomorrow, so no point coming back is there?”

Something flickered across Charles’ face, but it was so fleeting that Pierre couldn’t pinpoint what emotion it had been. It looked an awful lot like pain, but he doubted it. Charles didn’t do the whole feelings thing, did he? It was more likely that it was annoyance that Pierre was ditching him for a night out with his mates. Maybe he was jealous again.

Pierre was fully clothed again and pulling on his shoes, when Charles finally moved from his bed. He pulled on his boxers and his jumper and then stood watching Pierre for a moment. His hands were twisting in the hem of his jumper, but he didn’t speak.

“Right, I’ll text you tomorrow,” Pierre said with a smile. 

He walked over to Charles, and before he could remind himself that he wasn’t doing that sort of thing anymore, he’d pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Charles smiled at him, although it looked like an effort, and then he wished him a pleasant evening, before turning his back as Pierre walked out of the bedroom and out of the apartment.  


When the front door closed behind him, Pierre blew out a long breath. That had been even harder than he’d expected.

***

The last couple of weeks had been weird. Pierre had tried really hard to keep things ‘casual’ between himself and Charles. It was harder than he’d anticipated. A lot harder. It was difficult to go from the blissful domesticity that he hadn’t even realised they’d slipped in to, to suddenly trying to keep Charles at arm’s length.

He’d come up with various excuses about why he couldn’t see Charles on several evenings when the other man had asked him if they were going to get together. He thought he could almost detect the disappointment in the tone of Charles’ replies when Pierre had sent him yet another reason why he was too busy to pop over. At first, he wondered if there was something more to it, but he’d angrily reminded himself that Charles wasn’t interested in anything other than being ‘mates’. God, he was starting to despise that word. He’d heard it repeated in his head so many times as he replayed the conversation he’d overheard, over and over again.

The problem was that they’d slipped so easily into something that felt like more than just ‘friends with benefits’. They’d spent nearly every night together in the weeks before Pierre had overheard Charles talking with his friends, seemingly without making any conscious decision to do so. They’d just gravitated towards one another and been so lost in one another that they hadn’t even realised how much time they were spending together. So now that he was trying to avoid such ‘soppy, coupley’ behaviour, as he was describing it in his head, he was finding it tough. 

The temptation to fall asleep in Charles’ arms was probably the hardest thing to resist. He’d never had any trouble sleeping and when he’d started falling asleep with Charles that hadn’t changed. Somehow he felt even more comfortable in bed with Charles there, and waking up with him was just something wonderful. He’d tried to make himself stop doing it. But it was so hard. 

That first time he’d walked out on Charles after they’d had sex had left him feeling like shit, but he’d forced himself to do it a few more times since. Each time, Charles had looked at him with something like hurt in his eyes as Pierre had pulled his clothes on and made some excuse about why he couldn’t stay. It was so awful that he’d only managed to see it through a few times. Every other time he’d contemplated getting out of bed and walking away from Charles, one look at the man beside him had made him lie back against his pillow and allow Charles to cuddle up against him.

Dan had been badgering him constantly for the last few weeks about how he didn’t think it was a good idea for him to keep spending time with Charles when it was clear that Charles wasn’t interested in anything serious. He couldn’t understand why Pierre kept going back for more; why Pierre was happy to screw Charles when he was secretly wishing for something more.

Pierre _wasn’t_ ‘happy’ about the situation. Not at all, really. But he just couldn’t bear the thought of letting Charles go. Not yet.

But it was Dan, in the end, who made Pierre do something that he hadn’t even considered before.

All of his constant questions and concerned looks were pissing Pierre off and he couldn’t help but snap at his friend about it. He couldn’t deal with Dan fussing as well as how his feelings about Charles were all completely messed up in his head. Dan kept telling him that he needed to move on and stop wasting time on Charles if he clearly didn’t care about him in the same way. He’d said it so many times that Pierre was sure he’d be hearing it in his sleep.

So when a fit bloke that Dan had trained with coincidentally (Dan tried to convince him) turned up at the fire station one day to catch up with his friend, and Dan was being less than subtle about how his friend definitely wasn’t straight and definitely _was_ available  , Pierre had actually accepted when Daniil invited him out for a drink just to shut Dan up.

As soon as Daniil had left the station, Pierre had considered cancelling their meeting, but Dan had been insistent that he had to go, it was a good thing, and maybe it would help Pierre to see that there were blokes out there other than Charles Leclerc. Pierre had reluctantly accepted his advice and then wondered what Charles would say because he knew he was going to tell him. Deep in his heart, he hoped that it would make Charles jealous and he’d realise that he didn’t want Pierre seeing anyone else because he wanted him all to himself, forever. He’d been ridiculously jealous over Pierre just talking to Esteban, so surely him going on a date with someone else would be too much. But then, as always it seemed these days, he shook the idea away and made himself face facts. Even if Charles was jealous about it, it was probably just because he didn’t like to share and certainly wouldn’t want to be put on the back-burner for someone else in Pierre’s life.

Maybe Dan was right. As much as he didn’t want to accept it, maybe it was time he moved on.

***

Pierre had been feeling antsy since he’d arrived at Charles’ apartment the night before. He’d not slept all that well, waking up constantly throughout the night, and the feeling of something heavy in his chest hadn’t shifted by the morning.

They’d both woken up and gone through the motions of getting ready for work. Pierre knew he had to tell Charles about his date with Daniil seeing as it was that night, but actually getting the words out was something he was finding rather challenging. He just didn’t know how to bring it up.

In the end, Charles solved the problem for him. 

“Are you coming over after your shift?” he asked as he finished fiddling with his shirt buttons.

Pierre looked up at him from his position sitting on the edge of the bed tying his boots up, his heart suddenly beating faster. “I can’t,” he said simply, and before Charles could speak again, he continued. “I’ve, er, I’ve actually got a date.” He tried to make his voice sound carefree like it was no big deal, but he wasn’t sure how convincing he was.

There was silence for a moment and Pierre glanced up at Charles to gauge his reaction. Their eyes met and, for a moment, Pierre was sure he saw tears, and he was about to speak again, tell Charles he’d cancel the stupid date if he wanted him to, but then the moment was gone and Charles was smirking at him. The smile on his face looked off somehow and Pierre couldn’t see much of the man he cared so much about behind the grin.

“Good for you,” Charles commented. He turned back to the mirror and focused on his shirt again, although it looked perfectly alright from where Pierre was sitting. “Anyone I know?” he asked casually.

Pierre couldn’t quite wrap his mind around what was going on. He’d felt sure that Charles would react with jealousy, but this almost seemed like he  wanted Pierre to go out with another bloke. He was being so flippant about it.

“No, no-one you know,” he replied. “He used to train with Dan, so we met through him. He’s Russian...been working over there for a while and he’s just moved back here.” 

He watched Charles closely for some reaction, but there didn’t seem to be anything obvious.

Charles turned to him suddenly and smiled again. “Right. Sounds good,” he declared.

His voice sounded a little off and Pierre suddenly wanted to scream at him that they needed to sort this out, but Charles was walking purposefully out of the bedroom. Pierre followed him towards the kitchen where Charles picked up some papers from the table, shoved them into his laptop bag and made his way to the door of the apartment. 

“Look, I’ve gotta go, so I’ll…um…I’ll see you around. You can lock up for me, yeah?”

Pierre opened his mouth to speak, to stop Charles leaving.

“Have a good time tonight, mate,” Charles said as he pulled the door open.

Pierre’s mouth snapped shut. He watched Charles leave and the door closed behind him. 

“Thanks,  _ mate _ ,” he muttered to the empty kitchen.

***

The thing was, Dany (as he had immediately insisted that Pierre called him) was a really nice guy. He was sweet and funny and he was fit. They’d had a laugh and shared stories about work. Pierre had genuinely been interested in his tales of working for the fire brigade in his home city in Russia; his life out there sounded like an adventure and Pierre wondered why Dany had wanted to trade that in.

The evening had gone well: _they’d_ got on well. They had plenty in common and Pierre knew that Dany was the sort of person that his mother would approve of. He could just hear her voice in his head encouraging him to give Dany a chance.

The problem was that Dany didn’t ignite any of the spark that Charles did in Pierre. The passion that Pierre felt when he was with Charles just wasn’t there and he couldn’t see it ever being there. The way that he missed Charles when they hadn’t seen each other for a few days; the way Charles could turn him on with just a look; the way they teased one another; the way Charles made him feel with the simplest of touches. And not just in a sexual way, but in all the little ways he’d made Pierre feel special and cared for. Even if none of it had meant anything to Charles, it meant something to Pierre.

Maybe it was early days and maybe he should have been more willing to give Dany a chance, but he just couldn’t do it. Right now, he couldn’t see himself dating anyone else. He knew he was being dramatic, but he couldn’t see himself ever feeling that passion with anyone else. Charles had ruined _everything_ for him.

They left the pub and walked along the street side by side. Pierre was dreading having some awkward moment outside his apartment when Dany might expect to be invited in and Pierre would have to reject him. He hated stuff like that.

There was silence between them for a while and when they reached the traffic lights they paused and looked at one another. Dany smiled gently.

“Look, my place is that way,” he gestured over his shoulder, “so I’m gonna head off.”

Pierre wasn’t big-headed, but he’d expected Dany to want to go back to his for  _ something _ , so he was pretty shocked at the words. The feeling must have shown on his face because Dany chuckled a little.

“I think you’re a great guy, Pierre, and maybe in a different time or place this might have worked, but I don’t think you’re really interested in me.”

Pierre opened his mouth to say something, but didn’t know what he would have said. Daniil had seen right through him and he couldn’t deny it. 

“It’s okay,” Dany continued. “I got the feeling there was something going on – Dan’s not exactly subtle, is he? But I could tell tonight that your head’s elsewhere. I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but I don’t think you’re ready to move on from whoever it is you’re hung up on.”

Pierre felt his cheeks heat as Dany spoke. Was he really that obvious? 

“I’m not…” he started, wanting to protest the words, but knowing it was pointless. “I didn’t mean to waste your evening,” he said quietly. Dany was a nice bloke and Pierre felt bad.

“You didn’t,” Dany replied easily. “I had a good time. And if you get over this other guy, maybe we’ll go out again some time.” He smiled and bid Pierre goodbye before wandering off down the street.

Pierre blew out a long, frustrated sigh and ran a hand over his face. 

Fucking Charles Leclerc.

***

Pierre had had a long conversation with Dan about what had happened and the problem of how, as Daniil had put it, he was ‘hung up’ on Charles. 

He just couldn’t get Charles out of his system. Dan had quite rightly pointed out that Pierre was going to find it hard to get over Charles if he was constantly seeing him and sleeping with him, and Pierre had started to realise that he was right. He just couldn’t carry on with the casual, no feelings charade.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” he’d confessed to his friend.

Dan had given him an understanding look. “Then don’t,” he’d said simply. “It’s not worth it.”

And maybe he was right. 

Pierre couldn’t handle seeing Charles all the time and pretending all of it meant nothing to him. He was sick of acting like all he wanted was sex and he was content with knowing they’d never be anything more. He wanted Charles; _God_ , he wanted him. He wanted to wake up with him whenever he could, he wanted _everything_ with him, but that obviously wasn’t meant to be and he couldn’t keep putting himself through this pain.

They’d already been seeing less of one another over the last few weeks and Pierre decided that he needed to step back even further for his own sanity. He couldn’t bring himself to completely walk away from Charles – not yet. He wasn’t ready to let him go completely. He was desperately clinging on to Charles before the inevitable happened. But their interactions and their meetings had definitely become a trickle rather than a torrent.

The last time that Pierre had seen Charles, nearly a week ago at his apartment, Charles had looked tired. There were dark shadows under his eyes like he hadn’t been sleeping and Pierre had wanted to ask if he was alright. 

After they’d both come and were laid next to one another in Charles’ bed, Charles had pulled him close, spooning up behind him and nuzzling against the skin behind his ear, breathing deeply. He’d wrapped his arms so tightly around Pierre and fallen asleep pressed against him, so Pierre had no chance of moving out of the bed and leaving even if he’d had the will to do so. Charles had looked so tired that he didn’t have the heart to disturb him once he was actually sleeping soundly. And even though he didn’t want to, Pierre had to admit, he’d slept better wrapped in Charles’ arms too.

Pierre was worried about him, of course he was, but then he reminded himself that it wasn’t his place to be worried about Charles like that. So in the morning, when Charles had slowly blinked awake and smiled gently at him, almost looking surprised that Pierre was still there, Pierre had forced himself to shatter the harmony and get out of bed and leave, before Charles’ charms broke him down all over again.

Every time he walked away, he told himself it was going to be the last time. He told himself that he’d text Charles and tell him he wouldn’t be seeing him again. Even though they’d become friends, it was better to have a clean break, a fresh start. He just found it impossible to stick to that plan. He just couldn’t do it. 

One thought kept running through his mind on a loop: if it was never supposed to be anything serious between them, why did it hurt so damn much now that it felt like it was ending?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I don’t suppose that was what most of you were expecting after the last chapter... sorry! *runs away to hide*


	9. 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the end. Thank you so much for the lovely feedback on this fic. I’m so glad someone out there has enjoyed it!

Charles rubbed at his sore, gritty eyes and then poured the boiled water into his mug. He stared out of the window down onto the street below and lost himself in his thoughts. It seemed to be happening quite a bit recently, the drifting off into his own head and just  thinking . It was worst at night when he had nothing else to occupy his mind and he just laid in his bed wondering where he’d gone wrong.

He hadn’t been sleeping well for a few weeks and he felt exhausted. When he’d seen his friends, they’d looked at him in concern and nagged at him to tell them what was wrong, but he couldn’t find the words to say. And he didn’t feel like he had any right to anyway. 

What he’d had with Pierre had never been anything official, they’d never given it a name, so he didn’t have any right to be mourning the loss of their relationship. Because it hadn’t ever  _ been _ one. Except the problem was it felt an awful lot like a break-up to Charles.

Charles had noticed changes in Pierre gradually over the weeks. It had started on the night that Pierre had disappeared off to the pub after screwing him, without giving Charles a second thought, and things had gone downhill since then.

That night, the one that Charles still felt hurt about, he’d planned to sit Pierre down and have ‘the conversation’ with him. His talk with his friends had convinced him that it was a good idea. He’d been dreading it and relishing the prospect in equal measure. His nerves had been all over the place and he’d even rehearsed how he planned to start the conversation. He was going to ask Pierre if they could become official; he wanted to call Pierre his boyfriend because he cared about him as so much more than just a fuck-buddy and he wanted them to be together properly.

He’d been all psyched up ready for it, but the moment that Pierre had walked through the door, something had seemed off. He hadn’t been himself, but before Charles had had chance to ask if he was alright, Pierre had dragged him off to the bedroom. Charles, not being one to turn down sex, hadn’t put up any resistance and they’d had fantastic sex as always. But it was the minutes afterwards that had brought everything crashing down around him. Pierre’s out of character, almost cold, dismissal of him as he’d announced that he was off to the pub and wouldn’t be coming back had left Charles feeling shocked and, if he was being honest,  used . He actually felt like Pierre had turned up, used him for a quick fuck and walked out because he had better things to do than hang around with Charles, and Charles had never in his life felt quite so hurt.

That was where it had started, but since then there had been all sorts of weird things, like Pierre making up excuses about why he couldn’t come over or why he couldn’t stay if he did come round. He’d been distant at times and yet in other moments he’d clung to Charles as tightly as ever and looked at him just how he had not so long ago.

Of course Charles had worried that Pierre had somehow caught wind of his feelings and it had freaked him out. Maybe he’d seen something on Charles’ face as he’d looked at him that had given him away. Charles had panicked. And he’d immediately assumed that that was why Pierre was being so weird. So, in order to keep things from becoming messy and confusing and too much for Pierre (who clearly wasn’t interested in anything serious), Charles had started to pull back a little. If he kept his distance, hopefully he wouldn’t scare Pierre away completely.

Because he wasn’t ready to let Pierre go.

If Pierre had started to realise that Charles had proper, serious feelings for him, and it had freaked him out, Charles was willing to do whatever it took to hang on to him, at least for now. Even if that meant he had to accept that he’d see less of Pierre as the other man got over his fear that Charles was about to make some grand gesture of commitment, then so be it. He’d take what he could get. And if that made him desperate, well, no-one else needed to know what was going on, so no-one could judge him.

That had been the plan anyway. Things had gone awry when Pierre had announced, with no sign of any thought to Charles’ feelings, that he was going on a date with someone else. 

Charles had been crushed by the news, but he’d put on a brave front as always, shrugged it off and even managed to wish Pierre a good night. The words had felt like poison on his tongue as he’d forced them out and swallowed down the bile in his throat.

And, of course, Pierre’s date would have to have been with some fucking fireman, who was probably all hunky and gorgeous and they’d have loads in common and why wouldn’t Pierre ditch Charles for someone like that? Charles’ thoughts had run away with him and he’d spent the night of Pierre’s date getting drunk on his own in his apartment in order to block out the image of Pierre with some hot guy.

It was stupid really. Charles was trying to keep his distance so as not to scare Pierre away, but he knew he was failing as he felt like he was losing him more and more each day anyway.

He suddenly snapped out of his trance and fished the teabag out of his mug. It had probably been in there too long, he seemed to be doing that a lot recently, and his tea was probably going to be foul, but once he allowed himself to slip into thinking about Pierre he seemed to lose track of time.

What he really needed was a good night’s sleep. He was so tired and everything felt like an effort. He knew he had dark shadows under his eyes and other people had noticed and asked if he was alright. He even thought that Pierre had been looking at him with worry on his face the last time he’d seen him, but the moment had gone in a blink and anything that Pierre might have said went with it. In fact, he hadn’t slept properly since that night, when Pierre had actually stayed over instead of disappearing as soon as they’d finished fucking.

Charles carried his tea through to the living room and flicked the TV on. The national news was just finishing as he settled himself onto the sofa. He stared at the screen blankly as the adverts between programmes played out and then the local news came on. One moment he was sitting staring at the TV numbly, and the next he was desperately grabbing the remote and turning the sound up as images of a smouldering building appeared on the screen.

The reporter was standing in front of a cordon, the dark smoke behind her rising from the wreckage of the building over her shoulder. She spoke of a massive fire that had been reported earlier on in the evening at a warehouse on the outskirts of the city: the fire had been so large that several crews had been called in to deal with it as it burned out of control. She talked about part of the building collapsing and how there were paramedics attending. Thankfully, the fire had been extinguished but the damage it had caused was visible behind her as she spoke.

Charles knew that Pierre would probably be there at the scene. Of course he knew that Pierre was working; he knew his shift patterns off by heart these days. But he had his suspicions confirmed when the reporter turned to interview someone and the camera panned to Pierre’s watch manager.

The man looked grim as the reporter asked him for an update. He told her that there were casualties and there were missing members of the fire crew and Charles’ heart plummeted. He stood up and began pacing in front of the television.

“No, no, no.” He shook his head in disbelief as he moved. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be happening to another person he loved.

He came to an abrupt halt. His world seemed to freeze and, in a moment of absolute clarity, he realised everything that he’d been trying to deny for all this time, everything he’d been too scared to admit.

He loved Pierre. He was  _ in love _ with Pierre.

“Oh.  _ Oh ,  shit _ ,” he breathed out as he sank down onto the sofa again and fixed his eyes back onto the screen.

He couldn’t really focus as the revelation, ‘I love Pierre, I’m  in love with Pierre’ played on a loop in his head, but he caught snatches of information from the report on the news. Mentions of the collapse and a rescue and recovery operation blared out at him and he shuddered at the knowledge that ‘recovery’ was what they did when they retrieved bodies from an incident.

He couldn’t focus on any of it – he just wanted Pierre. 

He didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t like he could ring Pierre to check on him and if he was attending the scene he wouldn’t have his phone on him anyway. He resumed pacing as he ran his hand through his hair in agitation.

The news programme ended, with a reminder of the headline about the fire which just felt like a kick to the teeth, and Charles hadn’t sat down at all. 

He decided to call the fire station because he just didn’t know what else to do. He needed answers. He needed to know that Pierre was alright. 

The woman that answered his call sounded harassed and she bluntly told him that she couldn’t discuss Pierre or any of the other members of the crew unless he was a family member. She probably thought he was some nosey reporter looking for a story so, in the end, he settled for pleading with her to at least tell him if the crew had attended the warehouse fire and she reluctantly admitted that they had. Charles’ stomach flipped over as he heard the confirmation. He managed to thank her before ending the call and staring at the wall.

Pierre will be fine. He’ll be helping with the aftermath and the clear up at the scene and then he’ll be back at the station with his friends and everything will be fine. Charles kept trying to repeat it to himself and make himself believe it, but it wasn’t really working.

A few anxious hours dragged by. Charles kept refreshing the local newspaper’s website and checking Twitter for updates, but eventually he’d had enough. Grabbing his phone, he quickly found Pierre’s number and dialled. He resumed his pacing as he moved agitatedly across his living room. The call rang and rang, and Pierre didn’t answer. Charles growled in frustration as the voicemail message kicked in. He debated leaving a message, but he didn’t even know what to say so he hung up instead.

Shouldn’t Pierre have been back at the fire station by now? Surely his crew didn’t have anything else to do at the scene seeing as the fire had been dealt with hours ago. If he was back at the station, surely he’d be able to answer his phone. But what if he was hurt? That was what Charles had so desperately been trying to avoid thinking about for the last few hours. He hadn’t been very successful, as every time he pictured Pierre, an image of first his father’s and then Jules’ coffin had flashed through his mind and he couldn’t help but fear the worst. He knew he shouldn’t compare the situations, but he couldn’t stop himself from mixing the most painful memories of his life with the fact that Pierre might be lying in a hospital somewhere with terrible injuries, or worse.

What if he was dead?

Charles choked on his own breath as he tried to pull air into his lungs. He leant against the back of his sofa in an attempt to steady himself. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t deal with the thought of losing Pierre.

Pushing himself away from the sofa, he stood up straight and dialled Pierre’s number again. 

“ _ Please _ ,” he whispered desperately as the call rang out. “Please answer. Please just be alright.”

Pierre’s voicemail message played again.

“Shit,” Charles breathed out. He squeezed his phone tightly in his fist as he fought against the urge to cry.

***

Another hour had gone by painfully slowly and Charles had lost track of how many times he’d tried calling Pierre. 

In the end, he gave up and practically ran out of his apartment building and to his car. The last few hours of worry had left him frantic and he didn’t know what else to do, so he drove over to Pierre’s apartment as quickly as he could. If Pierre wasn’t at home, he was going to drive to the fire station and demand answers whether he was family or not.

After parking haphazardly outside, Charles sprinted up the stairs in Pierre’s building. He was breathing heavily by the time he stopped outside Pierre’s door but he didn’t even notice. He hammered on the door and waited impatiently, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he stood there.

He was about to give up and walk away when the door was suddenly yanked open.

Pierre was standing there staring at him in shock.

Charles stared back.

Neither of them moved or spoke as the seconds ticked by.

“ _Thank God_ you’re alright,” Charles eventually breathed out in a rush. 

Then his eyes scanned Pierre properly and he noticed the bruise forming on his cheek and the graze on his chin. “ _ Are _ you alright?” he asked. 

He moved forward and his hand started to reach out seemingly without him even thinking about it, but Pierre took a tiny step back and his eyes fell to the floor. Charles’ arm lowered and, for the first time ever in Pierre’s presence, he felt nervous and unsure of himself. Didn’t Pierre want him anymore? Didn’t he want him to be there? Didn’t he want him to comfort him? How had things changed so much between them? 

“Look,” Pierre sighed, and Charles couldn’t help but think that he sounded exhausted, “if you’re here looking for a quickie or whatever, I’m really not up for it.”

Charles’ heart stuttered in his chest. Did Pierre really think that that was the only reason he’d be there? For sex? Did he think so little of Charles after all this time? He swallowed down the hurt he felt and the snappy response that came to him, knowing that Pierre had obviously had a tough shift. 

“That’s not why I’m here,” he said. “I saw the news. The fire at the warehouse was on and they said that there were injured firefighters and...I was worried about you.”

Pierre looked up at him sharply as he said the words. He looked at Charles with what seemed like confusion on his face before he shook his head slightly and sighed. He held the door open wider to allow Charles to pass through and Charles took his chance. He didn’t want to stand on Pierre’s doorstep and try to have some deep conversation with him. And, regardless of anything else that was going on between them, his main priority was actually making sure that Pierre was alright.

They made their way into the kitchen and then stood at opposite sides of the room: Pierre leaning against the sink, while Charles stood in the doorway. 

Pierre was staring down at his feet and fiddling with the hem of his jumper – a sure sign that he was agitated or upset about something, Charles thought to himself, and then wanted to slap himself for not realising how deep his feelings ran before now. He knew Pierre so well: he knew his quirks and tells; the little twitches that gave him away; the times he thought he was being sneaky, but he couldn’t hide from Charles; and the times when he was quiet or lost in thought, but just needed a teasing remark or a gentle touch to bring him round. This was one of those moments when Pierre wasn’t going to talk first. If Charles wanted anything from him, he’d have to initiate the conversation.

“Pierre,” he said gently, “what happened tonight?”

It took a few moments but Pierre looked up at him eventually. His eyes were wide and swimming with tears that threatened to fall, but he scrubbed at his face roughly before they could. He stared out of the window instead of looking at Charles as he spoke. 

“I…look, you don’t have to do this…you can go. You’ve seen that I’m alright. I’m in one piece. You don’t have to…”

“But I want to,” Charles interrupted him. “Come on, Pierre. Talk to me. Please.”

Despite Pierre’s insistence that he was ‘alright’, Charles could tell that he needed to talk this through and do something other than sit in silence all evening  thinking about whatever had happened.

Finally, Pierre looked back at him. He just gazed at him for a while before he drew in a deep breath and began to speak. 

“We went out for the call-out to the warehouse. There were loads of crews in attendance because it was such a massive fire. There were reports of people trapped inside, so we suited up and went in. It all seemed like a routine search but then…there was this explosion and part of the roof came down and the next thing I knew, I was on the floor.”

He paused for a moment and Charles so desperately wanted to go to him, to hold him, but he didn’t want to take away from Pierre needing this time just to talk. He didn’t want to muddy the waters with what his intentions were. So he stayed put. He didn’t move towards Pierre no matter how much he wanted to pull him into his arms. He just watched him and let him continue.

“Dan was right next to me - he was down too. For a moment…” he broke off and swallowed thickly. “For a moment, I thought he was dead. He was so still and his alarm was going off and I could see his face through his mask…his eyes were shut and he had blood on his face. I thought he was dead,” he repeated and a tear rolled down his cheek at the memory of that terrible moment.

It had taken all of Charles’ strength to stay where he was as Pierre spoke, but seeing Pierre so distressed obliterated what remained of his will-power. He crossed the kitchen in a few strides and pulled Pierre into his arms, letting him press his face against his shoulder and breathe deeply as he let go of some of the emotion that had obviously been building within him since the fire. Charles could only imagine how awful it must have been for Pierre to open his eyes to see his friend lying there and think he was dead. He knew that Pierre would have instantly been reminded of Anthoine and he knew that, in that terrible moment, Pierre thought he’d lost another friend because of their job. 

When Pierre had composed himself a little, he pulled back slightly from Charles’ embrace. 

“I pulled him out and the paramedics took him to the hospital. My boss wanted me to get checked out too, even though I was alright, so I went down to the hospital and then I went to see how Dan was doing.”

“And?” Charles asked immediately. He was almost surprised about how desperate he was to know that Dan was going to be okay. He liked the other man and he knew how much Pierre cared about his friend and colleague – he knew that if anything happened to Dan, Pierre would take it really hard. That had been demonstrated already this evening. “How is he?”

“They’re keeping him in for observation overnight and probably tomorrow. He’s got a bad concussion but nothing that should do him any lasting damage. His skull’s too thick for that.” 

Pierre smiled weakly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He’d clearly had a terrible scare and he was still struggling to deal with it.

Charles rubbed his upper arm and smiled softly at him. 

“Well, I’m glad he’s going to be alright. And I’m glad you’re okay too.” 

He wanted to kiss Pierre. He really wanted to lean in and press his lips against Pierre’s to help him forget what had happened. He wanted to hold Pierre and let him know that everything was going to be alright. But he couldn’t. He didn’t know if he dared. And he certainly didn’t want Pierre to think that that was the only reason he’d turned up at his apartment, despite his earlier words.

Looking at Pierre’s red-rimmed eyes and his exhausted face, Charles decided he couldn’t expect to have a serious conversation about feelings tonight. It wouldn’t be fair of him to drop his emotional epiphany on Pierre tonight after everything that had happened. He could wait. He could hold onto his secret for a few more hours. 

Taking a slight step back, he nodded once at Pierre. 

“Look…you’ve had a hell of a night. I should...I should probably head off and leave you to it.”

He took another step backwards, but Pierre reached out for his arm to hold him in place.

“Why did you come here?” he asked quietly.

Nerves suddenly flooded Charles and he felt his heart rate speed up. 

“I told you. I saw the news and wanted to make sure you were alright. You weren’t answering your phone...I...I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I left my phone in my locker at work. With everything that was going on I forgot to go back and get it,” Pierre replied. He hadn’t let go of Charles’ arm. He was looking at him intently like he was trying to figure something out. “You were worried about me?” he said and it sounded like he was so unsure it made Charles’ chest hurt.

Charles moved closer to Pierre again, stepping into his space so they were mere inches apart. 

“Of course I was worried about you,” he said quietly, and while he spoke softly there was no denying the strength of his words.

They looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment and Charles swallowed thickly as he made his decision. He could keep running away from this; he could keep pretending that Pierre didn’t mean everything to him. He could make excuse after excuse about how it wasn’t the right time or Pierre wouldn’t want to hear it. But he knew, deep in his heart, that it had to be now. Looking at Pierre’s face, getting lost in his eyes, and then seeing the graze and the bruise on his face, the reminder that if things had been different, if Pierre had been standing in another part of that building, Charles might never have seen those eyes again. It was all too much. He couldn’t risk not telling Pierre the truth – right now. And if Pierre turned him away, told him it meant nothing to him and they could never be anything more, then so be it. At least Charles could walk away knowing he wasn’t a coward, wasn’t afraid of his own feelings. And yes, it would hurt like hell, but Pierre was worth the risk.

It was time to face his fears – all of them. The fear of Pierre rejecting him and the fear of exposing his feelings. The fear of what  might happen. He couldn’t live the rest of his life hiding from the ghosts of what had happened in the past. Being with Pierre was enough to make him want to be brave and finally deal with what had happened before. He wanted to take the chance to be with Pierre, share everything with him, because wouldn’t it be better to be with him now than never have the opportunity because he was too afraid? He’d never forgive himself if he walked away again.

“Charles?” Pierre asked quietly, and Charles suddenly realised how long they’d been standing there, how long he’d just been gazing at Pierre’s face.

‘ Good start ,’ he thought to himself before he blew out a long breath.

“I need to talk to you,” he said and he tried for a small smile but he knew it wasn’t his best effort.

Immediately, Pierre looked almost wary and he pulled back from Charles a little; a questioning, yet nervous, expression on his face. 

“Do we need to sit down?” he asked quietly. 

“It might be best.” Charles nodded.

They moved through to Pierre’s living room and sat down on the sofa, not close enough to touch, as both of them fidgeted about nervously. There was some tension between them that Charles had never felt before.

“I know,” Charles started and then he stopped and cleared his throat. “I know that things between us have been…different lately.” 

He was watching Pierre’s reactions closely, hoping to pick up any small signal that he was on the right track. 

“And I know that you’ve been out on some dates with another guy.” 

Pierre’s face scrunched up a little at that and his eyes darted away from Charles’. 

“And I know that I’ve…well, I’ve not been very good at letting you know…about, um, how I feel about stuff.” 

He was cursing himself mentally for being so crap at this. He knew he could charm just about anybody on a good day but this stumbling, stuttering speech was ridiculously bad. 

“It was only one date,” Pierre suddenly blurted out, his eyes wide like he hadn’t planned on saying anything. He looked down at his hands and pulled at the sleeves of his jumper.

Charles smiled softly, even though Pierre wasn’t looking at him. God, he loved him. “I’m glad,” he muttered.

Pierre looked up at him sharply and he looked almost hurt by Charles’ words. And Charles couldn’t help but let out a little laugh at the expression on his face. 

“I’ve been so stupid,” Charles said as he shook his head slightly.

There was still a look of confusion on Pierre’s face as he waited for Charles to continue.

“When you said you were going on that date…I didn’t know what to do. I…I thought I’d lost you to someone else, or that I was going to. And I realised that I’ve been scared of losing you for a while now, but I’ve been such an idiot because I never even told you how I felt and then I was scared that I’d lost my chance.”

Holding up a hand to slow Charles down, Pierre frowned at him. “What are you going on about?”

Drawing in a deep breath, Charles knew that it was now or never. He had to say what was in his heart before he actually did lose Pierre because of his own fears.

“Pierre, I want to be with you properly. I don’t want to just be your friend, or someone you sleep with, I want us to be together, as a couple,” he said in a rush. He felt like he wanted to grin manically as soon as the words had spilled from his mouth, but the look on Pierre’s face stopped his giddiness before it could take over.

Pierre shook his head at him. He pushed himself up from the sofa and took a few steps across the room before he turned back to face Charles.

“Is this some sort of joke?” he asked. Confusion and upset were clear on his face. “Or are you just saying this because you don’t like the idea of me seeing someone else because you’re jealous? Because if that’s what this is, I think you’d better leave. I can’t handle this. I can’t handle you messing me around and stringing me along.”

Charles’ face fell at the words and his heart plummeted to his stomach. Even when he’d been scared that Pierre would reject him, he hadn’t pictured this. 

“Pierre…” he started, but was cut off before he could get any further.

“ _No_.  No , this isn’t fair,” Pierre said angrily. “You don’t get to do this to me. I can’t...You don’t want me, at least not like that. I  _ heard _ you. I heard you saying that we were just mates, you didn’t want anything serious, _especially_ not with _me_.”

There were tears welling in Pierre’s eyes and Charles desperately wanted to go to him, but he knew he couldn’t, his affection wouldn’t be accepted and he didn’t understand why. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong. He was so confused.

“What are you _talking_ about?” he asked. “When did I say that?”

“To your friends!” Pierre shouted. He scrubbed at his eyes roughly. “I heard you outside your apartment, telling them that you didn’t want me like that. I know you don’t want anything serious with me. And I know I shouldn’t have been listening but I couldn’t help it and I heard you.”

He trailed off like he didn’t know what else to say, like he was totally defeated, and Charles sat in silence staring at him for a moment. He couldn’t believe that Pierre had overheard that stupid conversation when he’d been so in denial, still trying to pretend like he didn’t care about Pierre in that way, that he didn’t  love him. He’d been so, so stupid. And he knew that Pierre hadn’t heard the most important part of his chat with his friends.

He pushed himself up from the sofa, but Pierre’s face stopped him from moving towards him.

“I think you’d better go,” he said quietly. “I can’t…I can’t do this.”

Not so long ago, Charles probably would have walked out, too afraid of his own feelings, too scared to take that final step towards giving his heart to someone else. But he wasn’t giving up this time. Pierre meant too much to him to leave now. He wasn’t ready to give up, to lose him. 

“ _No_ , I’m not leaving. You have to listen to me. I did say that,” he spoke calmly, hoping that Pierre would let him speak and not throw him out. “But you only heard _half_ of the conversation. You didn’t hear the part where they called me out on all of my bullshit and I realised that I cared about you so much more than I’d been willing to admit. I’ve been a complete idiot about everything and I’m so sorry, Pierre. I’ve been stupid and scared, and I didn’t know how to tell you because I thought you’d run a mile.”

Pierre was watching him closely but his face had softened a little and he looked adorably bewildered by what he was hearing. 

“But…why did you say that to your friends? You said you didn’t do serious, especially with someone like me.”

Charles winced as he realised how hurtful that must have been. Hearing those harsh words and having absolutely no explanation for them must have been such a terrible blow. No wonder Pierre had felt so hurt. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said again. “That night, after you’d obviously overheard us, my friends talked some sense into me, and I decided that I was going to tell you how I felt. I was going to be honest with you, about everything. I wanted to explain why I was finding it so hard to let you get too close. I just…I never got chance.”

Pierre looked more confused than ever and he stepped closer to Charles. There was something hopeful in his eyes as he looked at him. “Why not?”

Charles actually felt his cheeks heat a little and he looked down at his feet. 

“You came over the next evening and…as soon as we’d finished in bed…well, you got up and left. You went to the pub with your mates.” 

He managed to look up after he’d finished speaking and saw Pierre’s eyes widen in shock. He watched the painful realisation of what had happened flash across his face. It seemed that they’d both done a brilliant job of fucking things up. 

“Oh _God_ ,” Pierre groaned. “Charles… _ shit _ . I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

“I know,” Charles said with a nod. “I get it now. I understand why you were so…weird with me.”

“I should’ve just said something,” Pierre admitted quietly. “But I was scared about how you’d react. And after what I’d heard…I just…well, I thought you’d meant it. And I was angry and upset with you. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. I must have hurt you a lot...I’m so sorry. You must have thought I was such a dick.”

Charles actually chuckled at his words. It wasn’t funny, not really. Not when he thought about how they’d both inadvertently hurt each other by being stupid and not communicating, but maybe they were finally getting somewhere. 

“I’m sure you were thinking something similar about me,” he said with a nod. “Obviously, neither of us are particularly good at talking about how we feel. I suppose that’s what caused a lot of our trouble – me not being able to talk to you about something.”

A look of curiosity appeared on Pierre’s face. Apparently, without even being aware of it, he’d already been inching ever so slightly closer to Charles as they’d been speaking, and now he took an obvious step towards him. “What are you talking about?”

Swallowing thickly, Charles held Pierre’s gaze. “There’s something that I probably should have told you a while ago. It might explain some of the reasons why I’ve been so bad at accepting how I felt about you, but I also know that I can’t use it as an excuse forever. I’ve been so afraid to talk to you about it, afraid that I’d lose you, and…I’m just not very good at talking about things and I’ve never really  had to talk about it, at least not to someone I…well, someone I want to be with. I’ve never wanted to open up to anyone about it.”

Pierre had closed the gap between them, a look of concern on his face. “Let’s sit down,” he said calmly as he guided Charles down onto the sofa. He took a seat on the edge of the coffee table so that he was facing Charles straight on. “You can talk to me. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Charles blinked a few times, already feeling a stinging sensation in his eyes.

“It’s…my dad and...my godfather…they both died.” He stared down at his hands for a moment, but then another set of hands wrapped around his own and he looked up to meet Pierre’s eyes, watching him closely and with so much affection that he drew in a shuddery breath and found the strength to continue. “My father...he got ill. It was awful and he died. It was...really hard for all of us, but I felt like I had to be strong, you know. Keep going...for my mother and my brothers. And I did - I had too. But then Jules, my godfather...we lost him too.” Pierre sucked in a sharp breath and his eyes widened a little. “He was in a car accident. I was really close to him and...losing him not long after my dad...it was just...I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“Oh, Charles,” Pierre said as he squeezed his hands. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

Charles shook his head slightly. He needed to carry on. He needed to say everything that he’d been holding on to and holding back from Pierre. “When we first started meeting up, it didn’t really bother me that you were a firefighter. I didn’t really give it much thought and we weren’t anything serious so it was fine. But then…then I started to see you in a different way and I started to panic that I was having feelings for you. I kept worrying about what might happen to you and what if you got hurt, or worse, in a fire because you were dealing with that every time you went to work and I couldn’t deal with the fear that I might lose you too. I didn’t want to deal with that pain so I kept trying to pretend like we were nothing serious and I didn’t care about you. But I can’t pretend anymore: I don’t want to. Even though the idea of you getting hurt because of your work still scares me, being without you scares me even more. I don’t want to throw away what we could have because I have issues about what’s happened in the past. I don’t want to lose you.”

When Charles had finished speaking, he felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest and he could breathe a little easier. Even if Pierre told him there couldn’t be anything between them, he knew he’d done the right thing by telling him how he felt. It was better to take the risk than never know what could have been.

He looked at Pierre’s face and was shocked to see tears in his eyes again. He couldn’t stop himself; he leant forward, reached out and cupped Pierre’s cheek with his hand. 

“Pierre,” he whispered simply.

Pierre closed his eyes for a moment, but Charles was delighted when he leaned into the touch against his face ever so slightly. When he opened his eyes again, he had a tiny, watery smile on his face. 

“I wish we’d both been better at talking instead of hiding what’s really been going on,” he murmured. “But thank you. Thank you for telling me now. I know it can’t have been easy. I’m so sorry about what happened to your dad, and Jules – I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you to deal with.”

It was Charles’ turn to take a breath and try to compose himself.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to deal with things on your own,” Pierre continued. “You can talk to me. I might not be very good with words but I’ll always be there to listen. It helped me when I told you about Anthoine - you were there for me, you listened. I can do that for you. I want to help you. And I get it…I understand why my job would be hard for you to deal with after what’s happened - I know why it would make you worry even more. But you have to know that what I’m doing every day isn’t about taking unnecessary risks or putting myself in danger. I want you to be able to talk to me if you’re feeling worried about it. And I promise you, I’ll always do my best to stay safe.”

Charles opened his eyes and looked at him. He felt a spark of hope spread through him at Pierre’s words.

Pierre must have recognised the look on his face and he smiled a little wider, but he almost looked a little shy when he spoke. “Before…when you said that you wanted us to be together, like as a couple, did you mean it?”

Charles felt his heart swell and for the first time in a while he felt completely confident about what he wanted to say. He was tired of second guessing himself and wondering what reaction he’d receive. He knew what he wanted. He knew what he felt. He pushed himself forwards on the sofa.

“I _love_ you, Pierre,” he said, and his heart was thudding in his chest, but he knew it was the right time. “I fell in love with you without even realising it had happened. One day I just realised that I didn’t want to think about my life without you in it. I’m in love with you. And I want to be with you – properly.”

There was silence after his declaration and then suddenly Pierre surged forwards, wrapping a hand around the back of Charles’ head and pulling him in for a searing kiss. Charles’ hands cupped Pierre’s face and he allowed himself to be overwhelmed by the sensations of Pierre’s lips against his own.

When Pierre pulled back, and they were both left grinning, he couldn’t resist leaning back in for a quick peck to Charles’ lips. 

“I love you too,” he said before he kissed him quickly again. It was like he couldn’t bring himself to stop touching Charles. “I don’t want us to be stupid anymore,” he added with a smile

Charles huffed out a laugh. “No more being stupid,” he agreed and then he leaned in to kiss Pierre again.

***

After the shift that Pierre had had, the evening of worry that Charles had had, and the emotionally draining heart-to-heart that they’d shared, neither of them had the energy to do much more than head to Pierre’s bed and sink into it together.

They lay pressed together, fingers smoothing over skin, knowing that, for tonight, it didn’t need to lead to anything. They had plenty of time for that. And they had plenty of time to talk about everything that they needed to discuss properly. Charles knew that while he’d opened up about the deaths of his father and Jules, there was still more that needed to be said. He was starting to realise that he needed further help to deal with the losses, especially if he wanted to be committed to his relationship with Pierre - which he really did - without driving himself mad with worry every time Pierre was called out to a fire. For now though, they were quite happy to just lie there and be close to one another.

“I missed you,” Pierre whispered as Charles’ hand stroked across his waist.

“I missed you too,” Charles told him. “I couldn’t sleep without you,” he admitted, and then he felt his cheeks heat a little and he buried his face into the space between Pierre’s shoulder and his pillow. Since when had he become so soft? Not so long ago he hadn’t even been able to admit to himself that he even cared about Pierre and now he was sharing his most closely guarded thoughts and feelings. For a moment, he was worried that Pierre would mock him for being soft, but he should have known better really.

Pierre shuffled a little and nuzzled his own head further into his pillow. He waited until Charles had shifted and dared to peer up at him so he could look into Charles’ eyes. “Don’t hide from me,” he murmured. He ran a hand through Charles’ hair gently, before his blunt fingernails scratched slightly at the back of his head, just how Charles liked.

It was almost scary how well they knew each other. Almost. Charles wasn’t afraid of that anymore and he wasn’t afraid of how Pierre made him feel or how he could actually picture their future together, and he wasn’t afraid to admit that that was what he wanted more than anything.

“I’m not hiding anymore,” he replied, before he closed the gap between them and kissed Pierre deeply. “I love you,” he told him when he settled back against his pillow.

Pierre’s soft smile was everything that Charles needed. “I love you, too,” he replied.

They both settled against their pillows, bodies pressed close together. And for the first time in weeks, they both slept easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought! Hope this long chapter with actual communication between them makes up for the sadness of the previous chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback would be amazing - please and thank you! 
> 
> I side-blog as leclasly on tumblr if you want to say hi or just generally chat about those f1 boys.


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